Immolation
by Please submit your
Summary: Peter's nuclear blast is so powerful, it launches he and Nathan all the way across the country; deep into the middle of Forks, Washington. Now, everything is changed since one unsuspecting, heartbroken girl happens upon them. But is it for the better?
1. Prologue

_AN: Hello! I talked about doing a Heroes/Twilight crossover, in which I would put Peter and Bella together, and so here I am, doing exactly that. This is just a prologue of sorts, not to worry, regular chapters will be much longer, I promise! But to warn you, there will be some minor (at least minor/nonexistent to me, but everybody's different) GORE in this chapter. Nothing bad, just muscle, bone, and burned skin. Really, I don't even think it counts as gore, lol._

_But, I'm thinking of having a lemon or two in here…hence the 'M' rating, but I'm still not sure if I want to have full on smut with all the gory details…I'm more of a sweet, emotion filled lemon type person :) But you know, gimme some feedback on that one._

_Now, I'm off to plan the next (or first, I should say, since this little prologue doesn't really count) chapter for this story, as well as see if I can't find some other Peter/Bella stories out there! I hope you like what you read! :D_

_Immolation Chapter 1: Prologue_

"_I was always told that changes were slow, gradual things…"_

I stumbled my way forward, each inch a battle as my mind swirled with erratic thoughts. His golden eyes, intense and hard as stone as he broke my heart flashed before me. But soon they melted into those familiar pools of topaz, full of love and affection, beckoning me forward and toward him. Stupidly, I drifted further into the forest, trying to catch up with them as they floated away. But all too soon they disappeared and I was left alone, tear-streaked, cut, bruised, and broken as the sky's light waned to darkness.

Rain began to softly patter down on my as it battered the canopy of trees above. Each drop was frigid in the cool night air that Forks brought, and yet I felt it all begin to ebb away. My fingers and toes began to tingles with numbness and I continued on my quest to catch him, because if I stopped I'd surely collapse. But I needed to find him, or what would life hold for me? He had quickly become my life, and I wasn't about to let him slip away. I needed him more than I needed the air I breathed.

But he was gone, and I knew this, though I shunned the information violently. He had most likely already packed and left, somewhere far away from me, the human that had quickly gone from the status of a pet to a pest. But I tried my hardest to ignore all logic that told me to turn around and trace my steps before they were lost in the rain. If I did that all chances of me finding him before he disappeared from my life forever were gone. I couldn't deal with that.

I walked on and on and on, my whole body crawling with the needling feeling of numbness. I barely noticed the odd purple-blue color of my hands, or felt the sting of the chapped skin on my face, neck, and arms. I only knew that he had left this way, and this is where I would find him. And I _would_ find him, because I simply _had_ to find him. He was everything, and without him, there was nothing. Not for me.

A small clearing in the trees made my hope perk—had I found our meadow? Would he be waiting here for me, telling me that he was sorry, that it was all a lie, a mistake? But my hope crumbled under a wave of disappointment as I found dead leaves and brown grass, fallen trees, and nothing resembling the beauty our meadow held. It was just another clearing among the many, and I wouldn't find him in any of them.

I stood, tears falling rapidly down my face, for just a moment in the rain as it pelted relentlessly down on me. But that one second was all it took to interrupt the flow of my life forever, changing everything.

Something crashed.

Right in front of me, something hit the ground with such speed that dirt and sticks and whole branches were flung up and into the trees, some hitting me and covering me in mud. I stared in wonder as a smoking crater held something that looked wet. I felt, though, as if I was about to get sick as the metallic tang of blood reached my nose, and that wet thing began to move. Though I stayed standing upright, watching it unfold into the shape of a man. Though he was twisted and mangled, spots of blackened skin peeling off and showing glistening muscle and vein.

But with sickening pops and cracks, his bones began to snap back to their correct angles, mending themselves. My mouth dropped open as his burned muscles brightened to a healthy pinkish-red, any tissue hanging or missing repairing itself and sometimes being completely regenerated. Soon, he was healed, skin closing and hair growing to show me a handsome, completely unscarred man.

I choked on my words, "How…how?" He whipped around to see me, toffee eyes wide and panicked as he realized I had seen everything. He looked at me, I looked at him, and I felt my vision begin to blacken. A distant ringing sounded in my ears and I felt the briefest of headaches before Everything went black. I felt myself hit the ground, heard muddled words, and there was a gust of air and a _whoosh_ as I fell out of it all.


	2. Conversations

_AN: Well! Another chapter, already! Although not quite at my average 3,000 word marker, it's pretty darn close and I'm pretty darn happy with it. But let me tell you, these first two were kinda hard to write—simply because the pace never really fit for me, you know? First I'd write it rushed, then I'd go to fix it and it would all just drag on and on. I hope I got a nice balance here! :D_

_Anyway, I'm still trying to get around to finding some Peter/Bella stories, but FF has been acting up for me all crazy-like. So the only thing that works is the search-engine—if I click on any of the links on the main page it just tells me the URL may be misspelled. I've picked apart the computer with still no answers! :'( So it's like, my comp's time of the month or something._

_Now, onto the story! To answer some questions, I will assure you this is NOT gonna be Edward/Bella. There won't be major Edward bashing or anything, but it will become and will stay a Peter/Bella romance fic. Just to ease any worries. :)_

_Now, I also wanna mention that these little quote-y things will be in the beginning of each chapter. Just to warn you. And this will all be Bella's POV. Though if you want me to go in depth later on, I could always hold a vote and see which chapters you'd like me to put in a different POV, I suppose…but eh, that's not for a while yet._

_Now, after this long note, on with the show!_

_Immolation Chapter 2: Conversations_

"_They also told me that 'curiosity killed the cat'…"_

I woke up to the sound of beeping, and knew immediately from my past experiences that I was in a hospital. But that was all I knew—everything else seemed to be a hazy blur. I remember the woods, devastation, and wonder, but the actual events that led to those emotions eluded me as I sat for what seemed an hour, my eyes remaining closed. I tried to dig through what memories I could, sort them, and find the reason I was even here in the first place, but it was too fuzzy, and it seemed almost as if my mind was a far away thing that I simply couldn't reach.

Sighing quietly, I assessed my body, trying to see if I could feel any pain. Maybe I had broken or fractured something? It definitely wouldn't be the first time. But there was no pain—a dull numbness that tingled through my limbs, and a burning, stinging sensation in my fingers, but nothing more. Confused, I finally decided to open my eyes and take in the stark-whiteness that was sure to await me.

But only moments after I had glanced around the room, I saw a man in the bed next to me. Multiple machines and IVs and other various instruments were hooked up to him, tubes and wires knotting together in a confusing haze of color. But that wasn't what threw me—it was the bright red burns all over him, scarring him and making him look barely human. I bit my lip, my heart going out to the man who would most likely have to deal with horrible pain and live with those scars the rest of his life.

I looked back to the blank ceiling, tears pooling in my eyes as I imagined the suffering that was sure to come for him. But I wasn't able to dwell much longer, as I was snapped out of my reverie by a muffled shout in the halls outside my door. "You can't do that sir! Visiting hours aren't—"

Another, calmer voice interrupted, closer to my door. I heard footsteps as a shadow appeared through the frosted glass window. "He's my brother—I _need_ to see him. You said he was in stable condition." With that, the doorknob began to turn. I fiddled nervously with my IV tube, watching as it slowly opened. The man stepped through, and instantly, the events from yesterday flooded back to me. In scattered bits of pieces.

"_We're leaving."_

"_Okay. I'll come with you."_

"_I don't want you to come with me."_

"_You…don't…want me?"_

"_No."_

"You!" I gasped, shooting upward and staring at him, wide-eyed. The man who had _crashed_ in front of me, injured and burned beyond belief, before repairing himself in mere moments. Again, like yesterday, his head whipped around and he stared at me. There was immediate recognition, as well as slight panic and confusion in his eyes. But the memories continued to bombard me with sensations and feelings, and I flopped backward, a hole ripping where my heart should have been. But I remembered—yesterday he left. And he took it with him.

"You," he echoed faintly, his face still in a mask of shock and worry. He stood, frozen by the door, as the doctor—who I recognized faintly, but did not know—that must have been yelling at him stood in the doorway. Everyone was still and silent for a moment, in which me and the unknown man had a staring match, before he interrupted.

"Bella? You know this man?" I looked over and really examined the doctor, before his grey hair and kind eyes registered with a name. Dr. Gerandy. He raised an eyebrow as I thought over his question. I didn't exactly know him, and yet the desire to know him—or at least know _what he was_—was large.

"Yes," I finally decided to lie. "I've seen him before. And we need to talk, anyway. Could you please let him stay, Dr. Gerandy?" I pleaded quietly, hoping beyond hope he would let him stay. And _leave_, preferably, so we could talk about what had happened in the woods freely. Although, as he nodded and left us alone, I realized the faults in my plan.

The largest one being that I doubted he'd openly pour his secrets out to me. I mean, who was I, but some random teenager who had happened to see a bit too much? Though my curiosity and hunger for knowledge made me think over my next question. Finally, I decided on one that was quite relevant, given the lie I had just told. "What's your name?" I asked quickly, never breaking the tense eye contact we had.

Though he did as he blinked in surprise, looking at me strangely. "Of all the things you could ask…" he finally muttered, his brow knitted in what I could only guess was confusion. But he continued anyway. "Why do you wanna know?" He was defensive, but I didn't detect any anger or malice in his words—merely hesitation.

I gestured faintly to the door, "Well, you know mine, thanks to the good doctor. And they also believe I know you now, so not having a clue what your name is could pretty easily trip me up in my lie," I stated drily. He looked at me oddly for a moment, and his lip even twitched as if he was resisting the urge to smile. But he regained control, still defensive, and the pause was almost a tangible, tense thing between us.

"Peter." He didn't add a last name, and I didn't see a need for it. I hadn't specified whether or not I knew him well, so Peter would do. Shoving the heartache and déjà vu I felt away—I could have sworn _He_ had mentioned a Peter before—I thought over my next question. Peter, seeming to sense that I was not done, but that I would need time to get my thoughts together, walked over to a chair on the other side of the burned man, grabbing his hand. I faintly realized that this was the brother he had been talking about, and wondered what had happened to them. Was the brother with Peter when he fell from the sky, burned and broken as he was? And if so, how come he hadn't healed also?

I bit my lip, the silence pressing in on me. I decided to ask a question to merely break it as I continued to mull over how to ask Peter what he was and how he did what he did while somehow simultaneously obtaining my answers. It didn't seem easy—in fact, it was looking pretty impossible. But I would try. "So…that's your brother?" I asked quietly, before slowly sitting up in my bed, bringing the sheet with me.

He looked at me warily. "Yes…my brother Nathan. And you really shouldn't move around so much, you don't wanna pull on your IV." I waved off his suggestion, but nodded.

"Thanks. But don't worry, I've been in the hospital before. A lot of times," I added as an afterthought. He nodded also, watching me for a moment, before flicking his eyes back to his brother. His eyes…they were a light brown, mocha-like color. They weren't gold or red…but they could be contacts, right? After all, they _had_ to be.

Peter simply had to be a vampire. There was no other explanation. E—my heart thumped painfully in my chest. _He_ had told me how vampires, unless burned, could regenerate. And although Peter had _looked_ burned, maybe it was something else that had caused those injuries. And though I had seen blood and glistening tissue—I resisted the urge to gag at the memory—maybe my theory of vampires not having blood was wrong. After all, who was to say that the blood didn't just simply lie dormant in their veins, not moving due to their lack of a heartbeat?

And then there was the fact that he landed right in front of me, falling like a meteor from the sky. Not only could a human never survive that in a million years, but a human wouldn't be able to fall from the sky the way he did without falling _from_ something. And there wasn't a plane, as I was sure I would have heard it. Not to mention no one sky-dives on a rainy night in Forks, Washington. _Especially_ not right into the middle of the forest.

So he had to be a vampire, right? I should just flat out tell him that I knew what he was, that it was okay, and I wouldn't tell anyone. But there was something, some kind of voice in the back of my head, uneasily nagging at me to just ask and not tell. So, I did just that, finally deciding to trust my instincts. "Well." He looked up at me again as I spoke, but I stopped. I still didn't know what to start with asking him.

"Well," he repeated. I bit my lip.

"I suppose you know what exactly I want to talk about," I said finally. He seemed to debate it for a moment, his eyes on me, but unfocused. Finally, he locked his jaw.

"No, I don't," was his tight response. I licked my lips, agitation lapping at my mind. I knew good and well that he _did_ know, and was just hoping I would drop it. But I wouldn't. I wouldn't stop until I found out every last detail—such as what his powers were, if he drank from humans, if he had a coven.

"So you _don't_ remember any of yesterday?" I asked, though my tone was obviously disbelieving. His brow creased, and he didn't answer. Though his expression was answer enough.

"What was all that?" I asked finally. He sighed and looked away, at his brother.

"Nothing. I don't know what you're talking about." I huffed, the irritation growing. He was going to be difficult about admitting it, and as much as I wanted to let him know I already knew, I had a feeling that that would earn me some terrible kind of death. But if I could get him to admit it to me, that would be a different situation entirely. Curiosity and determination ate at my insides, and again I had to shove déjà vu and heartbreak away.

"I saw everything, you know," I continued to prod him, "the regeneration, the whole falling from the sky bit. I'm not blind." I crossed my arms, finding that they no longer had a jelly-like feel to them.

He pursed his lips, still not bringing his eyes to mine. "But you are in the hospital," he began. "Maybe you've had a bad reaction to your drugs, because I have no clue _what_ you're talking about." He finally did look up at me.

I scoffed, looking at him with a twinge of childish anger. "Are you calling me _delusional_?" I fumed.

He shook his head, training his eyes on mine, as if he were trying to force me to believe him. "No, just that the drugs you're on are making you…you know…" he searched for a word, but I beat him to it.

"Have delusions. I get it," I snapped irrationally. But I knew that I was, in fact, _not_ having a delusion of any kind. What I had seen yesterday had been real, and not some false memory or dream. It was too vivid—not only he and his powers, but the heartbreak and desolation from the earlier events of the night. It all had to be real—after all, if none of it happened, we would still be together. And _He_ was nowhere to be found.

"Trust me," I began after calming myself down and pushing away the depression that threatened to overtake me. "I'm not delusional." He smiled, but said nothing.

Finally admitting that I was getting nowhere with this, I decided to switch tactics. _He _had said that covens traveled together, and there was rarely an event that would push them apart, such as death. Which, obviously, was not very common among immortal vampires.

So if Peter had a coven, surely they'd come after these two, right? Maybe I could get one of them to admit it to me. "Do you have any more family? Besides Nathan, I mean."

He cocked his head to the side slightly, examining me. He obviously didn't expect this change in the conversation, and I could tell it had put him on edge. Though I put on the best innocent face I could muster, trying to convince him it was merely a question and had no underlying meanings.

He obviously found nothing wrong with it. "My mother, Angela. And my niece, Claire." I filed this away. So he did have family—and he didn't mention another sibling, which made it apparent that, unless he was making all this up, Claire would be Nathan's 'daughter'. So surely, if they were posing as a parent and a child, she would come after them. Maybe I would get lucky and convince her to admit to me what Peter would not.

"Why do you ask?" he added after a small bit of silence.

I shrugged, looking away from him and to the floor. "Curious, I guess," I mumbled half-heartedly, as I hadn't thought of a reason for my random questioning. I looked disinterestedly at a small, flower-shaped bruise on my left arm, and watched a mosquito land on it. I quickly brought my other hand down on him, but aside from the sickening squish, there was a burning pain and ripping sound as my IV fell to the ground. I clutched the open wound, a yelp escaping my lips, and suddenly Peter was next to me before I even realized he was getting up.

I jumped slightly as he wiped off the IV with one of the wipe-things from right next to me. Then he put me through the grueling process of reinserting it, but I felt nothing but his warm skin. _Vampires don't have warm skin. That's simply a fact. His eyes aren't a typical color, his skin isn't ghostly-pale, and he's warm._ He finished as I processed all this with a sort of muted shock, and looked up at me. Our eyes met, and we were only inches from each other. His breath was warm on my face as I examined his eyes for contacts—but there were none. That was his real eye color.

Slightly disheartened, but mainly shocked, I mechanically broke our contact. "Thank you."

He cleared his throat, going back to his brother's bedside. "No problem. Just try to be more careful." His voice was steady, his posture relaxed. Surely he would be at least _slightly_ affected by my blood? _If he were a vampire. Which he isn't, _I thought drily. I looked up at him, but he was back to staring down at his brother, holding his hands. I watched tears pool in his eyes, something no vampire could do.

_What is he then?_

_AN: So, whatcha think? I hope it's alright and at least semi-in-character-ish. But I can assure you it will get OOC at points—hope ya don't mind. And as a side, thought, that wasn't a romantic moment between them. When I read it over it looked like it, but it was really just explaining how Bella could tell for sure that he lacked contacts._

_Anyway, I will kindly urge you to hit that cute little button right below, as I've gotten thirty hits already! And twenty visitors! I was actually quite surprised, but then happy—because that must mean Bella/Peter is a popular pairing, which guarantees me plenty of stories about them! Yay! I think they may be my new OTP…hmm…probably because in my mind, they just work, you know? They're both kind, stubborn, self-less, smart, curious people. Well, I think so, anyway. :P_

_Now, if I could just get my comp to hurry up and stop freaking…_

_So, yeah, if you wanna tell me how I did or guess what's gonna happen or even chat about the weather, I'd love to hear from you! *MAJORHINTALERT* ;D_


	3. Dreams

_AN: I am on a writing streak! No one has been able to pull me from the computer! Well, aside from the sandman, but I just get up and go back to it anyway…thank god for paid vacations… :P_

_Anyway, uh, nothing much to say. It's probably a pretty slow start, but I'm gonna start working in action and other characters and all that. But WOW. I've gotten loads of hits! I'm so happy I could cry! I love ya'll! :D_

_Um…well, really, there's nothing for me to tell you. So I'll let you read in peace._

_Immolation Chapter 2: Dreams_

"_My mother always said that if I wished for something hard enough, it would happen…but they were all wrong…"_

The silence between Peter and I lasted what I would say an hour. I stared off into space, lost in my musings and confusion, while he held his brother's hand or stroked his nearly-nonexistent hair. His tears fell silently, and while I felt the need to comfort someone who was obviously in pain, there was simply nothing I could do in my state. The burning numbness spread to my limbs, and I would periodically look down to make sure they weren't on fire—but they were only red and slightly swelled. I also began to wonder why I was in the hospital, and what had happened after I had passed out in the forest.

Later on, after the awkward silence had melted along with the tension, my father stormed into the room. "Bella!" Peter and I both jumped, and as I settled myself I thanked the higher power above I didn't tug out my IV again. He ran across the room to me, seeming to not notice Peter's presence. "I was so worried about you! Why would you walk off in the middle of the woods like that? I had search parties out—didn't find you till four in the morning! Doc said you had moderate hypothermia…God, Bella, seeing you so pale and your lips and fingers all blue..." He pulled back from the hug he had enveloped me in, looking at me with teary eyes. "I thought I'd nearly lost you again. You were bleeding out and so cold down to the bone…just got the call you're alright…"

He scooted backward into a chair, keeping his hand on mine, taking a deep breath. "I wish I could find the man that brought you out and thank him a million times over. But he disappeared with the crowd…he deserves a medal." His eyes continued to tear up, but then he seemed to finally take them off me to look at Peter—and his mouth dropped open. He jumped up and ran over—and Mr. No Emotions Charlie himself hugged a complete stranger.

I watched in utter disbelief as Peter looked uncomfortable in my father's tight grip, wincing, and glanced at me over his shoulder. Charlie pulled back and pointed to him, keeping an arm firmly around his shoulder. "This is him, Bella! The man that saved you!"

I felt my jaw drop as Charlie said this, before my eyes flicked over to confirm it—and Peter wasn't looking at me, but at the floor. I spluttered as I came to terms with this. _The man saved my _life_, and here I was questioning him like some criminal…_ I didn't know quite what to say about this. The man who healed himself right in front of me had also saved my life, somehow. How had he brought in his brother, and still managed to get me out of the forest? Surely one man couldn't carry two people—he didn't even look capable of carrying Nathan all alone, let alone another girl on top of it.

Something was up with that one. I just knew it had to do with…whatever it was Peter could do. There was simply no other logical explanation in my mind. I felt my brows furrow with concentration. "You found me around four in the morning?" I asked quietly. They both nodded, so I decided to put a timeline together. The…walk...had started just after school. I wasn't sure when Peter landed in front of me—in fact, I didn't even know how yet. But I was determined to find out. I had a mission.

I bit my lip, shoving my thoughts away so I could finally react to the news. Charlie was still holding an uncomfortable looking Peter, smiling at me. I put on a grateful look—because I was, in fact, grateful. I probably would have died if Peter hadn't found me—his _methods_ of finding me aside. "Thank you so much. I don't know how I could ever repay you," I said softly, looking into his eyes. He gave me a small smile.

Shaking his head, he replied, "Don't worry about it, I'm happy to reunite the chief and his daughter." I smiled again, bit my lip, and looked away, not thinking anything in particular.

"When can I go?" I asked finally, looking over at Charlie. He sighed.

"I really don't know, Bells. I'll have to talk to Dr. Gerandy and see what he thinks. But I'll have to do that later—gotta get back to the station. I'll see you later on today." And with that he rushed out of the room, apparently no longer feeling as sentimental since he had reassured himself I was, in fact, alive. I glanced over to Peter as the door swung shut, finding him next to his brother. I bit my lip, seeing him in a new light—before he was simply a mysterious, aggravating something. I wasn't even sure if he was human. And now he was the man who had saved my life—and while the pain at the time would have had me begging him to leave me there to die, had I been awake, I didn't want Charlie or Renee to suffer over my death. Not only would they be stricken with grief, but they would also have to hold and pay for a funeral service, which wasn't cheap. I would never put them through that intentionally.

Which made me look at this man differently. In a way, though he had me confused beyond belief as of right now, he was my hero. I continued to watch him for a moment before he looked up at me. I smiled uncertainly. "Thank you. Really, you did me a huge favor."

He chuckled. "It was no trouble at all, really." I saw a bit of humor in his eyes and my smile grew. Even though the mystery of what he was and what he could do and why he was here was still raging in my mind, he did seem nice—and my snapping at him early was pretty irrational. As I began to slip into my thoughts again—which, admittedly, I had been doing a lot of that morning—he looked over at his brother and a solemn sadness replaced his smile.

I bit my lip, feeling sympathy wash over me as I imagined seeing a member of my family in that state. "I'm truly sorry about your brother," I began quietly. "I know sorry's don't usually mean much, but if I could do anything to help, I would." He nodded, and shot me a grateful glance.

"Thank you. That does mean a lot, coming from a stranger, at least." He smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes. I went back to chewing upon my lip. Another hour or so passed, the sun tilting westward through the thick clouds as a nurse I didn't recognize came in with a pile of clothes and my shoes. She smiled at me.

"Here ya go—get changed and I'll take ya down to Chief Swan. Dr. Gerandy says you'll probably still get some redness and swelling on your fingers and toes, but you've recovered well and don't even have a fever or nothing!" She smiled even wider and handed the pile to me before walking out the door, I presumed to wait in the hall. Peter stood up.

"Would you like me to leave?" He began to walk toward the door but I shook my head.

"That's what they make that little curtain thing for. But if you would…?" I hated asking this of him, not only because it made me feel dependent on others, but also because the man had just saved my _life,_ and here I was asking him to shut the curtain to. But he nodded, no trace of annoyance visible as he pulled it across the room. I listened to him go sit on the chair and the fabric rustle as he took his brother's hand, and made to get up.

Every noise I made—the shift of the fabric, the small sigh as it hit the floor—seemed magnified times a thousand to me. I blushed the whole way through, sure he could hear and tell everything I was doing—why I blushed was beyond me, as he couldn't _see_ anything, and that was all that mattered, and yet it was embarrassing nonetheless. But when the loud clink as each tooth of my zipper finally reached its end, I breathed a sigh of relief, folded up my hospital gown, made the bed, and then pushed the curtains aside.

Peter looked up at me briefly, before looking down at his brother. I felt awkward, standing here, and yet it would also feel rude if I left without some form of a goodbye—not to mention I didn't want to say a permanent goodbye until I found out what exactly he was. So I stood silently for a moment, biting my lip, brushing a hand through my hair. Finally, without looking back at me, he spoke.

"Is there something you wanted?" the comment wasn't rude by any means, simply curious, and I didn't know what to say. So I decided to be polite and ask what seemed like a normal question.

"Are you new to Forks?"

He nodded. I continued, "Are you…planning on staying?"

He looked up at me, scrutinizing me. "For a while, yeah."

I nodded back at him, licking my lips. "Well, I have to go, but…if you ever need anyone to show you around the town or anything, I'm sure you'd be able to find me. It's really not that big. And I kinda owe you my life, so a tour would be a small way to repay you…" I looked up at him and he wasn't looking at either me or his brother, but staring off into space.

"Okay. Thanks. I might give you a call or something one day." It didn't sound like he was very certain, but I knew my time for questions was over. I nodded again in response, whispered a goodbye, and took one last look at his brother before walking out of the room and down the hall.

It was rather easy to find the front desk, next to which my father was sitting in an ugly orange chair, adjusting himself with obvious discomfort. He jumped up to greet me, stretching out his arms with a wide smile. "Bella!" Hesitantly, I patted him on the shoulder, half afraid to be hugged by him again. Charlie showing physical emotion was a rare occurrence—I could expect a solar eclipse to happen more often. Though it was needless, as he seemed to get the hint and clap his hand on my shoulder. "I missed ya, kiddo. You had me worried."

I nodded, licking my lips again. "I'm really sorry dad," I finally said. "I do that too much."

He waved it off. "Nonsense. You're a teenager. It's expected."

I bit my lip, feeling a gaping hole rip through my torso. I curled my arms around myself. "But I'm not anymore. I'm eighteen. An adult." _And he'll forever be seventeen. Immortally young and beautiful, while I'm left to wither alone._

Charlie sighed. "In a way, I suppose." He began to walk out the door, and I followed after him silently as he continued to speak. "Age-wise, you're technically an adult. But I always gauge it on finishing high-school and all that. Mentally, you've been an adult for years though." He shrugged, stopping at the rear end of the cruiser and turning to me. "But you'll always be my little girl, no matter what." With that, he went around to the other side of the car and grinned at me, pushing the button to unlock it. "Even if you make me pull my hair out sometimes."

I laughed slightly, still dwelling on the fact that I was older than him now. _Maybe it wasn't the incident with Jasper at all…maybe it was that he realized I was too ugly and unworthy now, and that would only become more apparent with time…vampire or not, I'm simply unworthy of him._ I sighed darkly, shutting the door of the cruiser and buckling my seatbelt, staring out the window forlornly. I couldn't help but dwell on the knowledge that he had finally realized and come to terms with the fact that I was just a plain human with no special qualities other than an unreadable mind and sweet-smelling blood. And he had worked around my 'mental block' of sorts by getting to know me and my facial expressions, and he had built up an immunity to the call of my blood. So now it was just me, plain old Bella, with no entertainment to offer.

I would leave too, I was sure. I mean, if I were a beautiful, perfect, talented, immortal vampire, I'd find someone at least _slightly_ closer to my level. In a way I was glad—although I had been thrown into my own misery, he finally had a chance to be happy with someone who was worthy of him. And yet that thought was of little to no comfort.

After all, my whole life had been revolving around him, when suddenly he had torn himself from it. It was like the sun disappearing tomorrow…everything else would be thrown into a dark chaos. And I was just one little astronomer with no idea how to put it all back.

When we pulled up to the house, I jumped out of the car and slammed the door by accident. Charlie waited for me to make it around to his side, his eyebrows raised. "Relax, Bells." I nodded absently to him, just noticing three hulking figures on the porch. My steps faltered as I walked, but Charlie waved happily. "Hey Billy, Sam, Sam's friends!" I furrowed my brow at the unfamiliar name, but said nothing, sidling up next to my father.

"Bella, glad to see you're okay," Billy Black said to me when I made it up the stairs. He smiled and reached forward, shaking my hand. I simpered at the three huge men—if they could even be called that—behind him, and they nodded. "We stopped by just to make sure all was well," Billy continued. "Bella, I'd like you to meet Sam, Jared, and Paul." I licked my lips and smiled at them, slightly more confident now that I knew all their names and who was who.

"Hello." Sam nodded again, but the look on his face was an odd one—it was a blank stare, almost, except for his sharp dark eyes. They seemed to be filled with something akin to distaste, as if I were a stain on his favorite shirt. Not that he was wearing one, which was odd, given that it was September in Forks, Washington—rainy and chilly as always.

"Hi," I responded quietly. Charlie invited the men inside, but Billy declined, saying that he and the boys—although behemoths seemed to be a more fitting description in my mind—had some tribal business to attend to, and were bound to be late already. Sam wheeled him off toward a car I just noticed parked on the side of our house, already containing another huge figure that looked smooshed inside the tiny space. I recognized him faintly, but didn't get a good look through the slight fog that had gathered on his windshield. They all drove away, and Charlie opened the door behind me.

"Coming Bella?" he asked. I nodded absently, making my way inside and sighing as the warmth and smell of home enveloped me. But there was something missing…the one person I truly felt at home with. I felt my face twist as my heart was wrenched out of my chest and stomped on, before being set on fire. _He's gone…forever._

To distract myself, I bit my lip, making my way down the hall and into the kitchen. "Wha—" I cleared my throat, hoping it would stop cracking and breaking with the depression that I was barely able to hold off anymore. "What do you want for dinner, Dad?"

He came into the kitchen, but didn't seem to catch the pained face I made. "Nah, I'll order out. I want you to rest and take a little Tylenol. Doc warned me you might be sore and all that—and he said to keep the house really warm, so…is it warm enough?" he asked gruffly. I smiled and nodded, before frowning.

"I want to cook," I said. I didn't tell him why, though. I knew it would only serve as a distraction from the pain I felt in my mind, trying to take over me. But He shook his head no.

He went past me to the shelf over the kitchen sink, getting me a glass of water and some pills. "Take this and go lay down or something." And he walked over to the phone, dialing a number and ordering a pizza of some sort. I sighed, admitting defeat, and nodded absently again, forgetting that he was unable to see it. Quickly, I swallowed the pills dry before gulping down the water, set the glass in the sink, trudged up the stairs, and shut and locked my door. While I was probably supposed to eat, thinking about food made my stomach churn. Especially because eating was another _human_ thing to do—a reminder why I was even in this situation. But as I looked around my room, tears slipped down my face, everything I saw reminding me of him.

For a moment, I wanted to go to my album and play my lullaby, but I didn't have the heart. I would do so later. For now, I simply walked over to my bed, flopped down, and cried myself to sleep. And even then, all I did was dream about _him_.


	4. Meetings

_AN: Yes, this is a writing kick, and I will warn you that it will pass at one point, making my updates slower. And I do, you know suffer from that nasty writer's-block disease…so I'm expecting it eventually. I just want you to know this whole daily-update thing, though totally awesome, will most likely not last the duration of this story!_

_To sally94: the angstiness should be about over now—of course she'll still be in some pain and all that, but it will get better! Though I can't guarantee Bella/Peter action quite yet…I do promise it though, eventually!_

_Continuing, I'd like to warn you of some extremely mild violence. I just had Bella stab someone, nothing to see here… :P But yes, it does happen, because my favorite female character (one of the, I should say) has been introduced! Raise your hand if you love Claire!_

_So, ahem, I will allow you to read on. Please tell me how this one turned out! :D_

_Immolation Chapter 3: Meetings_

"_Someone once said that the best heroes were your everyday people…and I guess they were right…"_

I awoke, screaming. Bloody muscles and tendons, exposed and broken bones, golden eyes and sharp teeth had haunted me in my nightmares. My blanket was on the floor, crumpled, and I was breathing heavily, drenched with a cool sweat. I looked frantically around my room, finding nothing wrong, and looked to the door. Apparently Charlie had decided to stop responding after the last four times I had woken up, screaming _his_ name.

But this one was by far the worst—then, I was still in the hazy state of half-dreaming, half-alertness, and had easily fallen back asleep. But now I was awake and I was scared for no particular reason. I didn't remember what my dream had been about, exactly, but was having flashes of different scenes from it, and didn't like what I saw at all. Each one terrified me in its own way—his golden stone eyes, the torn apart man rebuilding himself, cold red eyes staring at me hungrily.

After the bombardment of my own thoughts left me alone and shaking, cold, I took a deep breath and let it out, running a hand instinctively through my hair and looking around my room. It was dark and empty, and immediately I felt the loss. His cool touch had become a regular thing—something I had nearly taken for granted as I laid my head down each night. And now, it was suddenly gone.

Before I gave my body the command, I found that I was up, shivering at the sensation of the cool wood under my bare feet, and walking over to where I had left my photo album. I still had pieces of him—even if it was nowhere near the real in the flesh him, I could pretend. I could prove to myself it was more than a long, beautiful dream.

I reached my album and opened it with shaky hands. My eyes widened. In that moment, I felt whatever remnants of a heart inside me implode. My last thread, the one thing I could hang onto, was gone. _He_ was gone completely, in every way possible.

I wasn't sure when I began to fall, but I thudded to the ground. The coolness didn't even register. I didn't know if my eyes were opened or closed, only that it was dark. And I slowly felt the darkness creep in, shoving everything else away, before it swallowed me whole.

A week passed by slowly. Each second dragged on like a millennia, and I felt each and every piece of me slowly falter and fade away. Soon I was nothing but a shell, my hollow numbness and pain the only things accompanying me within my mask. I looked about unseeingly, spoke without commanding my lips, and didn't hear a single word said to me. Everything was mechanic—all I could do was wade in the thick pool of nothing that had become my mind. I was walking on a tightrope—be alive and feel the pain, or forget completely and never leave my room again. I was somewhere in-between, and I felt stuck in my new hollow self.

Everything had become a routine these days—wake up tired, go to school tired, work at Newton's tired, make dinner tired, go to sleep and not get an ounce of it. And, of course, always avoid anything that could ever possibly remind me of the days before this came about.

But then, change came about again. The school buzzed with the news of a surprise new student, a girl from Texas. A tanned, beautiful cheerleader. The boys talked about how hot she was, how they would take her to prom, and the girls made either snide comments about how she wasn't that pretty or talked about how they'd be her best friend ever. I simply made it through each period slowly before nibbling forlornly on a cracker at lunch, staring at a large blue tile. And yet, suddenly, someone rushed into the seat in front of me.

"God, I hope you don't mind me sitting here, I just have to get away from the mob for once." The girl who I didn't recognize breathed a sigh that was obviously relief. "I can breathe without someone asking why, thank the Lord."

I snickered mechanically, looking back to my floor tile. "I don't mind. I was new just last year, so I get it. I'll not bother you, if you'd like." The girl looked up and smiled a bright, white smile at me.

"Well, I never said anything about that! It's just no one was sitting here, and you were alone, and I wanna be kinda alone right now, so…" but I heard the familiar squeaky sneakers and chuckle of Mike Newton, one of the few people who still had any confidence left in my ability to live.

"Bella! I see you're making new friends," he scooted his chair forward, and I reached for another cracker, not looking up at him as I nodded. "Glad to hear it." He turned to the girl in front of me, who had taken a huge bite of her sandwich. I smiled as she chewed, definitely one of the least cheerleader-like cheerleaders I had ever seen. She settled her light eyes on Mike as he picked at his food.

"So, Claire—" My cracker broke with a surprisingly loud crunch as it hit the table, and Mike glanced over at me. He seemed to disregard it, used to my odd behaviors, but the girl cocked her head to the side, looking at me strangely. _I was right. She's come after him._

"Claire. Your name is Claire," I said stupidly, looking up at her for confirmation. She nodded slowly, not sure where I was going with this. "You wouldn't happen to know a Peter, would you?" That was the first time in a week I had spoken with any emotion, and Mike fell silent as he watched.

Her jaw dropped. "You know Peter?" She paused, stunned, but continued after a moment. "How?"

I licked my lips nervously, realizing I didn't know this girl, and her reaction to what I would ask her was definitely a variable in my plan. She could freak out and try to kill me…which I could see her doing, especially if she was like Peter. "It's a…long story," I put emphasis on my words, hoping she would understand that it was something that couldn't be said in front of Mike. Whether she understood, I wasn't sure, but I waited for a moment before continuing. "Do you think we could…um…talk after school?" I asked quietly.

She looked at me with her eyes narrowed, her suspicion almost tangible in the air around us. Mike even seemed to sense it, chewing on an apple nervously as his eyes flicked back and forth between us. I knew it wasn't real, but the air around us seemed almost cold as she scrutinized me.

And then she brightened, beaming at me. "Okay," she chirped happily. She took a big bite of her sandwich again, nodding, as if to confirm her agreement. She swallowed quickly. "You wanna follow me to my house?"

I winced, remembering that the stereo in my truck was too much of a reminder, and since then I had been walking everywhere I went—which simply was school and work. "Actually, I walked here today, so do you think you could…?" I felt kind of bad asking it of her, but she simply nodded brightly. The bell decided to ring then, and she hopped up with her tray.

"No problemo. I'll just drop you off at your house or something. Maybe we'll even become friends!" She threw Mike and me a last smile before dumping her trash and walking out. But if I wasn't mistaken, I could have sworn I saw slight tension in the way she walked. I looked over at Mike, but he simply shrugged at me and grabbed my trash, taking it with him as he dumped his. I thanked him quietly, walking to the door, and even allowed him to walk me to class.

Classes seemed to drag much longer than they had all week—it felt like days passed by as each teacher droned on in a monotone. But finally, the bell rang, signaling the end of school, and made me jump. Nerves jittered in my stomach as I thought of sitting in a car with Claire, not sure of what I was going to say, how I was going to word it, and most importantly—how she would take it.

I waited outside the doors for just a few moments before spotting her walking out. She waved to me, pulling on a jacket, before setting off down the stairs. I rushed after her, and she smiled when I was next to her, but said nothing. We walked over to a sleek black car, and she pressed a button. It beeped as the doors unlocked, and I opened the passenger door and plopped down on the seat. She started the car, still silent, and pulled out and away. When we were far enough from the typical after school traffic, her voice floated over to me, calmer than I expected.

"So, Bella. You wanted to talk." I could sense a wall behind her words. I struggled for a good response.

"Yes, actually," was all I deemed safe at the moment.

"About?" She turned briefly to look at me, before setting her eyes on the road again.

I licked my lips before clamping down on the bottom one, contemplating. "Well…I met Peter, a time ago, under…odd circumstances." She nodded tightly.

There was a hesitant silence, and I could sense that she was debating something. I looked over, carefully trying to place the expression on her face—it was a mix of apprehension, worry, and even fear. She pulled a hand from the wheel, running it through her blonde hair, before sighing.

"Are you a special person too?" she asked finally. I felt my brows furrow as she looked at me anxiously.

"A special person? Not particularly…" I said slowly, wondering what she could be thinking made me special.

She sighed in an almost dejected way, looking left out her window for a moment, before turning to the road again. "Just…tell me how you met Peter, please. Maybe we can sort all this out."

I sighed also, picking at my nails, suddenly regretting my need to talk to her. We were alone, on a stretch of road I didn't recognize, with no houses around. If she had any kind of abilities like Peter seemed to—flying, for instance, since he _had_ landed from the sky—then she would definitely win in a fight. If I was being honest, she wouldn't even need both hands, let alone the ability to fly, to overpower me.

"I…do you promise not to, like, get mad or anything?" I asked quietly, but she laughed.

"Yeah. I promise."

"Well…I was taking…a walk…" my voice broke as I winced, "in the forest. It was dark, and I was cold, but I still _know_ what I saw…" I stopped there, briefly musing on whether or not Claire even knew of her uncle's abilities. What if she didn't, and never came near me again, deeming me a crazy fool? And yet I just got the feeling that she did, although I couldn't place why.

"What did you see?" her voice was tight.

"Peter…he…he _landed_…right in front of me…and he was burned, and his bones were showing and sticking out all over the place, but he…they popped back into place and his skin healed and his hair grew. In _minutes_!" I exclaimed, looking over at her. Her face was twisted in what looked like pain.

"I…" she shut her mouth with a snap. "Are you sure you didn't dream that or something?"

"Then how did I know you? Or your uncle?" I quipped back. She looked over at me, startled.

"How did you know he was my uncle?"

I chuckled nervously. "We…talked a little bit." She didn't react to this information, and I wondered if she heard me, but decided not to press it.

Instead, "What…what _are_ you guys?"

She groaned, banging her head on the steering wheel quickly, before pulling into a driveway not seconds later. She stopped the car, pulled out the keys, but didn't get out. Instead, she turned to face me in the seat.

"You're sure of what you saw? You're not crazy?" her voice sounded hopeful. But her eyes looked resigned.

"I'm positive."

She sighed, leaning back in her seat. After a moment of silence, she spoke quietly. "You can keep a secret, can't you?"

_You have no idea…_ winced, pushing my memories back. "Yes."

"Good." With that, she got out of the car, waving me after her as she walked up to a small, modern home. I followed her inside hesitantly, looking around for any sight of Peter. She threw her keys on the table, calling out to him. "Peter?"

After a moment, silence our only answer, she sighed again. "He's probably seeing my dad off or at the hospital with Nathan or something." She turned around to look at me, but I raised my eyebrows. Before I could ask about Peter apparently having another brother, she grabbed my wrist and towed me toward the kitchen.

"Don't freak out," she warned. "I need you to do something for me, but you have to do it, okay? And, you know, not tell anyone. Then I'll explain and all that. Peter's gonna kill me…" she looked away. "Well, I guess it's technically his fault anyway." She shrugged, continuing to tug me through the high arch into a beautiful, modern kitchen. She rifled through a nearby drawer, and I stood next to the island as she pulled out a huge knife. My eyes widened as she put it in my hand and lifted up her shirt, and began to take off her white jeans.

"W—wait, what are y—you…" I began to protest, but she threw the clothes to the side, clad in a bra and boy-shorts. My face lit up like a stoplight, but she merely shrugged.

"They're new, and I didn't want to ruin them," she said as if that explained her reason for handing me an extremely large knife and then stripping. "Alright." She took a deep breath. "Stab me."

Again, I began to splutter, my eyes as wide as saucers. "W—what? You…y—you want me to…t—to what?" I said loudly.

She rolled her eyes. "Trust me. I'll be fine. Just stab me." She emphasized her point, gesturing to her tight, tanned stomach. For a moment I stared at her, wondering if she was insane, but then a wave of understanding crashed over me.

"You're like Peter," I said quietly. She nodded, but then a grin broke out on her face.

"Well, technically, Peter's like me. So come on, do it already." I gulped—knowing that she was going to regenerate didn't make me like the thought of stabbing her any more than when she had originally asked it of me.

She rolled her eyes, reaching forward and grabbing my hands, before plunging the knife into her abdomen. I watched in a nauseated horror as blood leaked out of the wound—but soon she pulled the knife out with a hiss, her eyes closed, and set it in the sink. Her injury, though, healed. I looked on in fascination as the skin knitted together like fabric, closing and healing, and all that was left was a bit of crusted blood. Not even a scar.

"Wow," I breathed, and she laughed.

"I know, right?" She turned around to the sink, grabbing the knife and washing it quickly. When she was done, she turned around and looked at me for a moment, before beckoning me across the hall, through a living room, and down another hallway to a pink and blue bedroom. She sat on the bed, patting the spot across from her. It was soft, and I immediately sank into it, leaning back against the white footboard.

She smiled, but then looked down at the floor, tracing the lines in the wood with her eyes. "Um, there's actually not a whole heck of a lot to say." She paused. "Peter and I are a part of humanity that is beginning to evolve in strange ways, giving us 'superpowers' of sorts. My power is that I can regenerate. Peter can copy other powers." She looked up at me, but I stared at her dumbly as I processed this.

There were…people out there…who had superpowers…living among us. That was so totally wacky, and yet I couldn't say that, being that I had dated a _vampire_. I winced, bringing my knees up to my chest and hugging them. Finally, I rested my chin between them and looked at her. "Do you believe me?"

I laughed. "How could I not? That's crazy, but I believe you. How many 'superheroes' such as yourself are there?" She giggled, rolling her eyes.

"I don't know if I'd call us that, although Peter did save the world." My mouth dropped open, and she smirked smugly for a moment. "And there's a bunch. I wouldn't be surprised if there's one in your town." I gulped, processing that.

"And…what kind of powers can you have? Is it always regeneration and absorption or…and I swear Peter flew or something," I rambled slowly.

She nodded. "My biological dad—Nathan—has the power of flight, which Peter took. But yeah, there's like, a ton." She got up and padded over to a bookshelf, still in her undergarments. She grabbed a book, rather thick, and handed it to me.

"I don't know if you like big reads, but if you do," she began, sitting back on the bed in front of me. "This gives a list somewhere in there. It kinda explains how the evolution works and all that yadda yadda." She stayed silent as I thumbed through it. I read the inside cover's description as it introduced a Dr. Chandra Suresh and his ideas and study on the human genome project. I bit my lip.

"I can't read it all here, so do you mind me taking it home? I love to read, so it'll be back to you tomorrow or something." She smiled.

"Like I touch the thing. You could throw it in a river for all I care." She laughed for a second, and surprisingly, I joined her. I _genuinely_ joined her, laughing without telling myself to. She sobered quickly though, "But don't, 'cause it's kinda Peter's." I nodded, setting it on the floral bedspread and looking up at her. She stayed silent, just looking back at me.

"Well, since I'm already in my pajamas and don't feel like changing right now, you're stuck here for a while," she said happily. She seemed lighter, now that she had told me everything. "Unless there's any particular reason you'd wanna go home like, right now." I shook my head—home held reminders that I just didn't need. Since finding out that Claire was here, my numbness had mysteriously disappeared, and now that I was me again, I wanted to stay that way for a bit longer.

"I do need to call my dad, though," I said quietly. She nodded and pointed down the hall.

"Phone is right next to the door, behind that little patch of wall." I thanked her quietly, walking down the halls back to the door, standing behind said patch and dialing my father's number.

"Bella! Where are you?" he exclaimed when I greeted him.

"Sorry dad, I should have called," I began. "But I'm hanging out with a friend for a while…if you don't mind." He seemed shocked by this news, but recovered quickly.

"Not at all! Have fun! I love ya, Bells." And then he hung up, extremely happy to see me out of the house. I sighed, relieved that I was off the hook, but then the door opened. Two voices, one I recognized and one I didn't, sounded down the hall.

"Claire?" I could tell that was Peter. I froze and plastered myself to the wall, hoping he wouldn't see me.

"Claire-Bear?" another voice said. I bit my lip, torn between humor and terror. I wasn't sure if I was welcome in this house by Peter, and I didn't want to upset anyone. So I'd just wait for Claire to come out.

She took an insanely long amount of time to bound down the hall—or maybe that was just me? Either way, I felt myself breathe a sigh of relief as she said hi to both of the men—calling one of them dad. That was when I wondered if and why Claire had been adopted…she _had_ called Nathan her biological dad, but this 'dad' of hers couldn't be him, as he was most likely still in the hospital. But then again, it _had_ been a week. I would just have to ask…

Finally, Claire said, "Hey, I want ya'll to meet my new friend." She appeared next to me, grabbing my wrist. I hung up the phone, following her out of the shadows and straight into the view of Peter and his unknown friend. Peter's eyes widened almost comically while the other man—Claire's dad—narrowed his own. "This is Bella." The baggy shirt she must have just thrown on rustled as she gestured to me.

"I know," Peter said tersely, his eyes flickering between Claire and I. The other man took his scrutinizing eyes off of me, looking over at Claire.

"Just how _good_ of a friend is she, Angel?" I could see worry in his eyes. Claire smiled and winked at him.

"We just met. Two perfectly normal girls, just hanging out like any other teenagers would." She shot me a glance, and I knew that she didn't want her father to know that I knew about her. I mentally chuckled at the tongue twister, sticking out my hand to shake his.

"I'm Bella Swan, and it's nice to meet you…"

"Noah Bennet." He smiled tightly at me, shaking my hand firmly, and letting it fall. I nodded to Peter, who returned the gesture, and Noah looked at Claire. "Are you sure you wanna stay here, sweetheart? You could always come back with your mother, Lyle and I. You know that, right?"

She nodded happily, hugging him. "I know. I'll call regularly, but I really wanna get to know some of my biological family."

Noah nodded, and I saw tears behind his glasses. "I'll miss you, honey. But I do have to go now." With one last hug, he kissed her temple, said goodbye to Peter and me, and shut the door with a soft click.

I looked over at Peter warily, to find the same look in his eye as he appraised me. I simpered, but he didn't budge. Claire broke the silence.

"So…you don't mind if we throw your book in a river, do you?"


	5. Friends

_AN: I have a love/hate relationship with this chapter, but in the end it'll do. I just think there was too much dialogue, but at the same time, there's plenty of character development, so it kinda balances in the end. Though not my best piece of work, I can't say I hate it. I apologize in advance for those of you who get tired of dialogue easily._

_But this, at least in my mind, is a chapter for Claire fans! Which I am! I love both Bella and Claire to bits, and Peter is just so wonderful! Although I figure he's more apprehensive about Bella knowing—considering he's kinda stressed right now, what with the whole "I just blew up my brother" fiasco._

_Also, you now kinda know why Claire is here and all that, though not the whole background. You'll find out though, promise!_

_Um…I hope you like the Bella/Claire friendship. Because the first half of this story will detail that (probably the next few chapters) before I begin to put in Peter/Bella romance. Though it's not like they'll remain strangers or anything, so don't worry about that, lol._

_Also, I have a few WARNINGS! One being that I have decided there will be a lime in this story—also known as a not quite so graphic lemon. I will alert you which chapter it's in and warn you somehow, but I want you to be aware. ALSO! This whole piece won't be in BPOV. While mostly, there will be parts that I NEED you to see, which she won't be involved in. So it'll switch to THIRD PERSON POV!_

_Just wanted to make sure you know! ;)_

_Now, on with the show. I hope I did well!_

_Immolation Chapter 4: Friends_

"_Friends can also come from unexpected places…"_

"What?" Peter asked, dumbfounded. Claire sighed and rolled her eyes, walking into the living room. Wordlessly, Peter and I followed after her—he allowed me to go first, but we didn't even look at each other. I couldn't help but feel extremely awkward around him, knowing what he could do and what he was.

"It was a joke, birdbrain," Claire teased him as he sat on the chair across from Claire and I. "But I was telling Bella here about some things...and I showed her your book. You don't care if she borrows it, do you?"

His eyes widened again. "You told her?"

She narrowed her own. "Like I had a choice. _You're_ the one that showed her your powers in the middle of the friggin' forest!" He sighed and looked over at me.

"I didn't even think telling you I had a niece would backfire." I smiled sheepishly, but he just ran a hand through his hair. "So you know what Claire and I can do." I nodded slowly.

"I'll never tell, though. I promise." I looked both at he and Claire to confirm that they believed me. She nodded happily, accepting this, but he looked at me warily.

"I hope not. Noah said we have to lie low for a while. That explosion caused a stir I guess." I cocked my head to the side.

"Explosion?" He looked at Claire questioningly.

"You conveniently left out that part, didn't you?" She shrugged.

"I might've forgotten to mention it." He groaned and leaned his head back, staring at the ceiling for a moment, before turning back to me.

"Well…basically, I absorbed a power I couldn't control and ended up exploding. I had asked Claire to shoot me in the back of the head so I couldn't heal, but Nathan flew in and took me to the sky before she could." He looked away with tears in his eyes. "Almost no one was hurt," he whispered.

Understanding dawned. "That's what happened to Nathan." He nodded. I licked my lips and looked to Claire, thinking about how Lucky Peter was to have absorbed her ability, or surely he would have been dead by now. While thinking of that, I recalled how she had me stab her, and the way the blood nearest to the injury seemed to be sucked back in as if by magic…

It was like a puzzle coming together in my head. Claire's power had to rest somewhere, and surely that was in her blood, a substance that could travel around her body quickly enough to heal whatever needed it. I gasped and smiled…but frowned again. Would my semi-idea work?

"Claire…" I began, and she looked over at me. "Nathan…he's your biological father." She nodded. Well, that led me to believe that worrying about different blood-types wouldn't be much of a problem. I continued to mull it over for a moment before she interrupted me.

"Why do you ask?" She didn't seem to be catching on and looked genuinely curious—same with Peter.

"Well…" I started, but paused. I wasn't sure how to voice my thoughts. "What's the one substance that, even in normal people, reacts to help injuries? White blood cells fight infections, platelets scab cuts over, et cetera…" She rolled her eyes at me, but Peter seemed to be on the edge of understanding where I was going with this.

"Can we skip the science, please?" I licked my lips and nodded, deciding to just pretend I didn't hear the sarcasm in her words.

"Well, yours seems like that—it helps your body with injuries, only super fast. So, I figure the thing that actually heals you is your blood itself—that's where your power lies, if you will." I waited for her to process this. She took one of her lips between her teeth and nodded, still looking slightly confused. Before I could continue, Peter gasped.

Understanding was scrawled all over his face. "Are you saying…if we inject her blood into Nathan…it might do the same thing for him as it does for her?" I nodded.

"Being that he's her father, I doubt we have to worry about different blood types…and it would be worth a try, to see if we could heal the rest of his burns." Claire looked worriedly over to Peter.

"Do you think it could work?" He shrugged at her, looking between the two of us.

"I don't know…Bella, do you think we'd need a lot of blood?" I bit down on my lip. Would we need to take an excessive amount from her, or would just a little do the trick?

"I'm not sure…I suppose we could start with a little, and if he needs more just take some more…but we don't wanna take too much." I looked over at Claire, trying to see if she was willing. She sensed my question.

"I'd be fine with doing it. The only problem is…where would we get a needle?" Peter laughed.

"Noah got me a job as a paramedic down at the local hospital. I'm sure I could snag a _syringe._" Claire stuck her tongue out at Peter for the correction, but looked over to me, her eyes full of awe.

"You're like, a genius, Bella," she whispered. I laughed and waved it off, a blush flooding my cheeks.

"It was nothing, really. I just…"

She interrupted. "Yeah right! I never would have thought of that! It's like you just figured out how my…power…worked…" she trailed off, not looking at me, and bit her lip. I sensed that this was probably a touchy subject for whatever reason, and opted to change it.

"Thanks. But I'm really no super-genius or anything," I laughed nervously, and she did too, her mood lightening. Peter just watched us, a slight smile on his face. I turned around, looking for a clock, and saw that it wasn't even dark yet, so I didn't have to worry about going home. But then again, I didn't know what time it actually was—as the clouds could skew the time of day—or even what day it was! I had been too wrapped up in my misery to even notice.

"Um…what day is it?" I asked hesitantly.

"Friday," Claire chirped. "Why?"

"Just wondering…I've kinda been out of it for a while, so I didn't really keep track." She nodded sympathetically as I wrapped my arms around my torso again, feeling the true pain his leaving had presented me with—my numbness had disappeared, and I was unable to call it back. Claire, surprisingly, wrapped an arm around my back.

Peter didn't seem to understand what had me down, though. "Is something wrong?"

Claire shot him a look, and I bit my lip. "Girl stuff." She seemed to know that I just needed a distraction, and began to ask me questions.

"So, Bella, tell me about yourself."

I smiled thankfully, scooting backward into the soft couch and looking up at the both of them. Claire grinned, as did Peter, encouraging me to speak.

I laughed nervously. "Nothing flashy like blowing up or anything. Really, I'd rather hear about you guys." I knew there was one thing I could tell them that would be of interest, but I didn't want to. I was using this conversation as a distraction, and consequently was not about to drudge up painful memories.

She shook her head. "Today's been all about me so far—after those kids at school, I'd rather hear about someone else for a while." I bit my lip again, knowing she wasn't about to budge. I glanced at Peter, and he seemed to be waiting for me to speak, so I sighed dejectedly, used to being bullied into things.

"When I was small, my mother divorced my father because they were young when they got married. She took me to Phoenix and we lived there the whole time, until she got a husband who's a minor league baseball player. I knew she wanted to travel with him, but couldn't because of me, so a few months ago I came…here," I said the last word as if it was a curse.

"Is here a bad thing?" Claire asked.

I laughed. "Imagine today's weather every day. Yeah. I love the sun…and the sky…and the heat and desert…and I could only take my little cactus." She laughed with me.

"Wait," she began, grabbing my wrist and bringing my arm up for inspection. "How the heck did you get so pale in _Arizona_? Didn't you ever leave your house?" She looked at me disbelievingly, and Peter chuckled.

"Um, yeah. But I remained ghostly somehow," I sighed. I looked at her skin with a hint of jealousy. "I wish I could be like you, tanned and beautiful and all that. But it didn't happen." I smiled, joking more than serious, but she furrowed her brows.

"You're like, really pretty though," she said it like it was totally obvious, and I was a moron for not noticing. I laughed.

"I wish."

She sighed, seeming to give up, and grumbled something I didn't catch. "Yeah, whatever. Anyway, tell me more."

I looked at the floor, trying to think of something to say. "I love to read and just hang out with any family and close friends. I'd rather sit in my comfy clothes at home eating ice-cream than be out all day at the mall. I'm walking a fine line between clumsy and handicapped, I'm at the top of all my classes…except for gym, obviously…I love to draw, even though I can't…yeah. That's about it." _I also dated a vampire that thirsted for my blood. Nothing extraordinary._

Claire sighed. "I wish I was like you. I hate it when people think I'm an airhead just because I'm a blonde cheerleader."

I gasped with fake surprise. "You're not? I never would have guessed." She punched me and I yelped, rubbing the tender area.

She laughed, "I'm sorry. I didn't actually hurt you, did I?"

"No," I sighed. "I get hurt really easy, so it's not like I'm not used to it. I'm the wimpiest person I know." I huffed at that knowledge.

She laughed again. "Are not! You didn't freak out when you learned that there are people who have superpowers, which is pretty amazing!" I laughed nervously, scratching the back of my head.

"Well," I began, looking at Peter. He chuckled and finished for me.

"She fainted when she saw me regenerate." Claire looked at me for a moment, her lips twitching, before bursting out with laughter.

"Wow," was all she seemed able to say. I rolled my eyes, muttering, _"It's not that funny…"_

"In my defense," I said hastily, "I was beat up and depressed and cold and tired and all that." I looked over at Peter again, deeming that Claire had a little while before she got over her giggle fit. "Speaking of which, how did you get me out of the forest?"

He shrugged as if it were nothing. "I took Nathan to the hospital, but then saw a poster with your face on it and knew I had to go get you. So I flew down and got you out of the forest." He shrugged again.

My mouth dropped open. "But I was dead weight! I must have been so hard to carry!" He rolled his eyes at me.

"You? You couldn't weigh fifty pounds soaking wet. Besides, I kind of have super strength too…" he trailed off, and, if possible, my mouth dropped open further.

"Just how many powers do you have, exactly?" I stuttered. He sighed.

"Mimicry, regeneration, flight, strength, telekinesis, telepathy, invisibility, radioactivity, precognition, the ability to bend time and space…" he trailed off, before nodding.

My jaw had hit the floor. "_That_ many?" I whispered.

He nodded. "That many."

I shook my head, barely noticing that Claire had stopped laughing. "Wow," was all I could get out. Peter had just listed ten different powers off to me, all of which he possessed. He had to be the most powerful person I had ever come across, vampires included. He had the strength—though I didn't know if he was quite as strong as them—the telepathy—which made me wince and curl in on myself again as I tried to forget just who else possessed that power—the precognition—and in the book, his ability was listed under empathy. So I guess that counted.

_He beats my vampires a million times over,_ I thought wryly.

"How do you…how do you _control _them all?" I asked finally. He sighed.

"Not easily. As you know, I nearly blasted away .07 percent of the world's population." I nodded.

"Yeah, but…that just seems…so amazing. Way more amazing than—" I stopped myself, and Claire and Peter didn't seem to notice the pause in my words. "…anything I've ever heard of."

"Ain't it?" Claire said, and I could detect a hint of pride in her voice. "He's probably one of the best heroes out there. So far he's saved how many lives? Mine, yours, the world…"

"I did not save the world," he defended, and I think, if I wasn't mistaken, there was a slight blush on his cheeks. "Nathan was the one who flew us into the sky."

She rolled her eyes. "Before that, dummy." She turned to me, a conspiratorial smile on her face. "Peter got this message from this man—Hiro, that was his name, right?" Peter nodded. "Anyway, Hiro told Peter that he had to save the cheerleader to save the world. Which was me. And, look, I'm still here." She giggled. "So he totally saved the world like a real superhero!"

I looked over at him, and again the only thing I could say was, "Wow."

He rolled his eyes playfully. "Right now, you make me regret saving you." She picked up a pillow and threw it at him, but it bounced back off of thin air and hit her softly. She stuck her tongue out in defense, but then it got sucked right back into her mouth. Peter grinned.

"No fair," she huffed at him. "Didn't we just discuss how amazingly super-powerful you are? D'ya _really_ have to rub it in?"

He seemed to contemplate it, before smiling smugly, "Yeah, I think I do." She pouted playfully, and I inched over to the pillow on my side of the couch, flicking it at him. He didn't seem to notice in time, and for once, something I threw actually hit its target.

He looked over at me, stunned. I grinned, and Claire laughed, before sticking her hand out for me to high-five. We giggled happily, before something softly whacked me upside the head. I looked over at Claire to see her looking behind me. I turned and saw a pillow, floating in midair, making its way back around to Claire to deliver a blow. I laughed as it took a swipe, purposely missed, and then fell with a small plop on the top of her head. Peter grinned at us.

And then, just as she was about to launch it back at him, their phone rang, startling everyone. Peter jumped up and disappeared down the hall, where we both heard his end of the conversation. "Hello? She is…hold on…" He paused for a moment, shouting. "Bella, your dad is calling."

I hopped onto my feet, wobbled for a moment, and then padded down the hall to see him standing there, before he handed it to me. All of his playful attitude seemed to be gone, replaced with that same apprehension, and I didn't look at him as I took the phone and muttered a thank you. "Dad?"

"Bella, it's getting kinda late. Are you coming home or staying there?" I bit my lip.

"Can you hold on a second? I'll be right back." I set the phone down on a nearby table, flittering down the hall to the living room, where they both looked up at me. "Claire, will you still drive me home?"

She nodded. "Sure. Unless you wanna stay the night?" She seemed hopeful.

I felt my eyes widen. "Do you want me to? Would it be alright?" I looked at Peter.

"I don't mind. I'll have to set you up on the couch, but…"

"No, she'll sleep in my room! What else will I do with that big bed?" Claire said. I licked my lips, unsure of that idea.

"Are you sure Claire? I kinda talk in my sleep…and I don't have anything to wear…" She waved me off.

"You'll probably fit in something of mine…and I have plenty of stuff that I never wear you'll probably like." She appraised my simple dark jeans and black t-shirt with slight disdain. "Not to mention I'm a heavy sleeper. It'll be fine." She grinned.

"Okay…I'll go tell him then…thanks so much, the both of you," I added before I left the room.

"Dad?" I asked again. "You still there?"

"Yeah. So are you coming home?"

I twirled the cord of the phone around my pinkie. "Actually, can I stay the night and come home tomorrow?"

He seemed surprised, again, but agreed. We exchanged quick goodbyes and I wandered my way into the living room. Only Peter sat there, and I hesitantly took my place across from him. He smiled, and I simpered nervously.

"So Bella. You don't have any special abilities I should be aware of, do you?" I shook my head.

"No. I'm pretty ordinary."

"Good. I don't wanna spontaneously combust or something." We both laughed slightly, but it was awkward without Claire. Speaking of which…

"Um, where did Claire disappear to?"

He threw his thumb over his shoulder, pointing down the hall. "She went to get you some pajamas and extra sheets. Also to clean up the blood in the kitchen and the clothes on the floor."

I jumped up, "I can't let her do that all alone! I'm the one who stabbed her!" I felt terrible for making her shoulder the responsibility, and ignored Peter's weird stare, ambling into the kitchen. The clothes were gone, but the blood had dried on the floor. I looked around for a rag or something, finding a sponge, wet it, and began to clean the blood away.

Claire traipsed into the kitchen just as I was done. "Wow, thanks. You didn't have to do that, you know."

I shook my head. "I stabbed you, after all."

She laughed. "I made you." I waved my hand, dismissing the subject.

"You're letting me stay over, so I should help out while I'm here." She rolled her eyes, but handed me some sweats and a t-shirt instead of replying.

"Thanks again, really," I said quietly. She shook her head.

"You're the first person here who just wants a friend. Everyone else either wanted to get some juicy gossip or get in my pants." She giggled, and I cursed my pallid complexion as I blushed.

"Trust me, I want neither. Well, I mean, a friend is nice, but I don't want gossip or…you know…" She laughed again, but then pouted.

"You mean you're not into that stuff? I was so excited!" I felt my heart speed up as my jaw dropped in dismay, but then she began to laugh, and I realized I was an idiot for believing her.

"You scared me for a second," I said, laughing with her. She winked.

"I try. But c'mon, let's go do something." With that, she instructed me to follow her into her room, where she pulled out many different board games. Hours passed with us just hanging out together—I wasn't sure where Peter was or what he was doing, but I could have sworn I heard him talking or something. I brushed it off.

It was late as Claire and I laid down, and we were laughing. I found that not a trace of my pain remained with me—and I really did feel like Claire and I were two normal human teenagers, hanging out together. She had kicked my butt at Sorry while I had stomped her at Clue—it was like any other sleep-over.

I sighed. "Thanks for letting me stay over, Claire. I've had an awesome time, and I…kinda needed it." She shifted to lying on her side, propping her head up on her elbow. Strange shadows were cast upon her face from the dim glow of her small lamp.

"Speaking of which…" she began. "I saw the way you acted earlier when you talked about being out of it. Is something wrong?"

I licked my lips and looked toward the ceiling. "It's nothing, really. I don't wanna talk about it right now." She shifted back and looked at the ceiling with me.

"That's cool with me. I just thought I'd ask." I nodded.

"Thanks. That really does mean a lot to me. You're probably, like, my best friend right now." I laughed without humor.

She started at that, silent for a moment. "But we just met."

"Isn't that sad?" I said bitterly. "But pathetically, it's true."

She shrugged, not looking over at me. "So you're a loner. Who cares?"

"Everybody," I sighed, and my eyelids began to droop as the revelations of today started to wear on me. She glanced over, before yawning, and I copied her.

"It's late," she pointed out. "We oughtta get to sleep. D'ya think tomorrow you could show me around town or something?" Her tone was hopeful.

"Sure, sure. Although there's really not much to see—unless you wanna browse the grocery store." We both shared a laugh. "But how about Port Angeles? It's full of stores you'll probably like, and I need to stock up on books anyway."

"Sounds good," she replied sleepily. "'Night Bella."

"Goodnight," I answered back, before we both rolled the opposite way, she shut off her light, and we fell asleep.


	6. Vampires?

_AN: Hey! My kick is still going strong, I know. It's pathetic. :P Anyway, I'm trying to get a sense of playfulness and bonding in here, but I also wanted to work in our upcoming action and introduce another favorite character of mine! She rocks! Elle fans go zap something! :D_

_So, yah. Also, wanna say I finally managed to get FF to work and looked up Bella Peter stories. The first one to catch my eye was the only one I read so far. AND OH MY GOD IT'S PURE FANTABULOUSNESS. AND I JUST FOUND OUT THAT'S A WORD BECAUSE SPELL CHECK ISN'T FREAKING OUT! YAY!_

_So…GO READ 'RESURGENCE' IF YOU HAVEN'T ALREADY! IT WILL PUT THIS STORY IN THE DUST WITH ITS AWESOMETASTICNESS!_

_Ahem…now after shouting at you, I will allow you to go ahead and read on. I hope I did well with the dialogue and friend parts! Please tell me, because I'm a way better angst writer in my opinion, and friendly fluff is definitely not my thing…at least I don't think so, but opinions are much appreciated!_

_Also, to sally94: I'm sorry to be cryptic but I promise that all of the questions you have asked are amazingly spot on as far as the answers I'll give! Though I can't guarantee you'll get them right away, but soon! And thanks very much for each review you've given!_

_And now, without further adieu, the story! Sorry for constantly ranting and not allowing you to read ever, I know, I'm a terrible author! D:_

_Oh, shoot, before you go, I do wanna address my reviewers so far! __**lady blood bath, sally94, Dark Alana, Twilight Gleek, and cosmoGirl666**__**! Not only do I adore your pennames, but your reviews make me so happy! Thanks bunches, really, you're probably the biggest reason my updates are too fast—your confidence is astounding! Reviewers like you make the world go round! You get my homemade swirly cookies! **_

_Alright, I'm officially done now. :)_

_Immolation Chapter 5: Vampires?_

When I awoke, the first thing I noticed was something warm and semi-heavy on my chest. And though that was strange, what really stunned me was that I felt well-rested, and didn't recall a single nightmare! I snapped my eyes open, hoping to figure out the reason, and realized I wasn't in my room as I thought I would be. I looked around and recognition dawned—I was in Claire's room, sleeping over at her and Peter's house.

That was when I decided to investigate the mystery of the thing that was on my chest. I looked down and saw a head of blonde hair, arms splayed limply as Claire lay on my me, fast asleep. I sighed, not wanting to wake her—as it was the weekend, she had just moved, and she was letting me stay at her house, so I wasn't about to be rude.

So I lie there for hours, watching the sun make a rare appearance at around nine in the morning. It, luckily enough, shone on her tanned face, and her eyelids fluttered open. She looked confused as she gazed at me, but didn't move from her spot.

"Bella? Whatcha doin'?" she drawled slowly.

I smiled nervously. "I was actually waiting for you to wake up…so I could…well…" I gestured, and that was when she seemed to notice she was lying on me. She sat up quickly.

"Sorry 'bout that." She scratched her head and looked dazedly around her room, as if trying to find something. "Wuh time's it?" she slurred, still half asleep.

"About nine," I replied, sitting up and stretching. I looked down at the faded shirt she had given me just in time for my stomach to growl.

She looked over at the noise, and giggled, rubbing her eyes and seeming more alert. "I have some cereal, or eggs and bacon, but I'm not really much of a cook…"

I got up, my stomach rumbling again. "I love to cook, so if you want me to—" She interrupted me, her brow furrowed.

"You're my guest! I couldn't make you do that!" she protested, but I began to walk toward the door.

"I want to though Claire—like I said, I like to cook, do it all the time, and it's the least I could do for you and Peter." She sighed and waved her hand, dismissing me, saying she'd be out in a moment. With that, I pulled my hair into the ponytail holder I kept conveniently on my wrist and made my way into their kitchen.

It felt weird, cooking in someone else's home, but when Claire came out and reassured me that it was alright and she really didn't mind—the chance to not have to cook was fine by her—I grabbed their eggs and bacon and began to fry it all up. I sprinkled it all with a few select spices and poured glasses of milk after Claire set the table.

She sighed happily, gazing at the food as I carried three made plates into the dining room—and Peter, right on time, sauntered into the kitchen, rubbing his eyes. They widened at the sight of the meal. "Food. Wow," he said quietly.

Claire laughed. "Thanks to our new and improved maid. I swear, Bella, it's like you're not even a guest!" She threw me a half-hearted glare, but didn't seem to put much effort into it. I gestured to the plates, ignoring her comment.

"Yeah, I just used what you had available. I hope you don't mind…" I trailed off, looking up at Peter and expecting him to be mad or something. But he shook his head, still looking stunned.

"That's alright. Claire and I aren't really five-star chefs and…wow, a home-cooked meal. You're awesome." He sat down and dug in next to Claire, who had already inhaled half her eggs. I blushed at the compliment, but was pleased that he was not only not mad, but seemed to enjoy the food.

"So, Bella," Claire began. I looked up at her, chewing thoughtfully on a crispy piece of bacon. "I seem to recall you _promising_ to take me shopping." She grinned, but I winced and bit my lip.

"Actually, being that I'm not a major fan of shopping," they both looked startled. "I seem to recall promising to _show_ you some stores you may like in Port Angeles, while simultaneously picking up some new books for myself." I smiled smugly; certain that was the original agreement.

"Alright," she conceded after a moment of silence. "Then we take Peter with us." His eyes widened as he looked over at her.

"Me? Why?"

She smirked at him. "Well, Bella here needs to pick up some books…so we get her to show us around, and then _you_ help me shop." He grimaced and shot me a half-glare.

"Thanks, Bella. You're officially not getting paid for the handiwork." We all laughed, but I replied simply with that anything was better than shopping.

Claire set me up with some light jeans and a baggy shirt, which was perfectly fine with me. We were out the door by noon, after I insisted on washing the dishes—after all, I had dirtied them. They relented after a useless argument, telling me I had done enough. But after that, it was pretty smooth sailing—I pointed out the mall, the salon, and a few other shops Alice had forced me into, and then they dropped me off at a bookstore right down the road, promising to be back within the hour.

I sighed, watching them turn into the mall's parking lot down a few blocks, before heading into the shop.

III

Elle looked disinterestedly at the large crater in the clearing, the Haitian bending down near it to examine the thing more closely. She sighed and turned around, looking into the trees with narrowed eyes. Right now, boredom and uneasiness were warring in her mind. Staring at nothing more than a _hole_ for at _least_ an hour didn't constitute as much fun to her. And not only that, but for the last thirty minutes she had felt uneasy, which was steadily growing to discomfort. She just felt like something was _watching_ her.

She tore her gaze from the dark forest and rested it again on the hole, noticing that absolutely _nothing_ had changed since when they had first gotten here. And yet this imbecile she was with seemed certain that he would figure out something—what his ultimate goal here was, she had no clue—if he just looked at it from every angle possible.

After five more minutes, he stood up and brushed off the knees of his jeans, shaking his head and shrugging. She sighed again. "Well, this is obviously where he landed. If that's all you were out to find, I could have saved you all the trouble," she grumbled at him, but didn't get a response. She rolled her eyes and glanced back at the spot where she was _sure_ there was something watching her. As an agent, her senses were sharp—she was positive this uneasy feeling wasn't just stemming from nothing.

And then, everything happened in slow motion.

Something—some_one_—jumped out of the trees toward the Haitian, landing inches from him. His eyes were focused on his throat, and his lips pulled back over his teeth. Elle immediately reacted without sending her body the direct command—she just stuck her hand out and zapped him.

The man stumbled back with a yelp of pain, turning his pitch black eyes on her. Electricity danced on her fingertips and hands as she looked at him, wide-eyed. If she hadn't just lost her mind—which she _hadn't_, mind you—she could have sworn hat guy was about to _bite_ the Haitian.

"Who are you?" she ground out, looking at him threateningly. His eyes widened, glistening from the light her electricity created. She mused briefly on how strange it was her powers were working right now, but figured that the Haitian was too far from her to affect her.

"_What_ are you?" he countered. She detected a faint French accent under the words, but didn't like how he said them—his voice was full of awe and skepticism, but there was a tinge of a deep, rumbling noise…as if he had _growled_ at her just now.

She scowled and shot him with electricity again. "Answer the question!" she barked.

He howled with pain, before falling to the ground and looking up at her, his eyes looking saner—although, disturbingly, they were now a bright red ruby hue. "I…I can't tell you. You're a human!"

"No duh," she muttered to herself, before sending an extra jolt of electricity to him, holding it longer—his clothes began to burn and curl, but before they could actually catch fire, she stopped. She would get her answers.

"Who are you?" she yelled again, looking at him angrily.

"Okay, okay," he whimpered. She noticed that where his hands had rested, there was simply a pile of ash—and something smelt like a sweet, bitter perfume. Had she burnt his hands to _ash_? She was astonished, but didn't let it show.

"My…my name is Laurent," he stuttered. "I'm a vampire, here to find a human." Her ears perked as she processed this. He claimed to be a vampire? That was absolute bullshit, and yet she couldn't say anything, being that here she was, zapping him repeatedly with lightning. Not only that, but humans didn't immediately turn to ash when burned.

She bit the inside of her cheek briefly before deciding she would believe him. She would ask Daddy about it later and see what he said.

"Who are you hunting?" she asked. She zapped him again, making sure he'd tell her. He hissed.

"Isabella Swan." She started at the unfamiliar name, but filed it away into her memory. She had almost expected him to say Peter Petrelli—why was beyond her, but she had. Though here was another interesting subject. She might even make her father extremely happy if she brought in this Isabella Swan.

She narrowed her eyes. "Describe the girl, and I'll let you go." He nodded vehemently.

"She's short, with pale skin and brown hair and eyes. It's a small town—I'm sure you can find her!" he rushed. She smiled.

"Thank you for your time," she said sweetly, before shooting him again—she continued, not relenting until she was sure he was on fire, and even then. She waited patiently until he was reduced to a pile of smoking ash, and the sweetly bitter smell permeated the air around them.

A slow, malicious smile worked its way onto her face. Without a word to the stunned Haitian, she turned on her heel and began to strut through the trees, back the way they had originally come. She stopped, looking over her shoulder at the pile of ash that was left of the 'vampire'.

"Daddy will be _quite_ pleased."

III

I looked up from the book I was reading, out the window to see Peter's car, with him honking the horn. Claire waved to me from the passenger side, and I rushed with my bag of goods out the door, glancing back over my shoulder to thank the lady I had bought them from.

"Good news," she said. "They had a sale and the perfect dress! I've gotta show you it, Bella, you'll die with envy." I rolled my eyes at her, but laughed.

"We'll see." I buckled my seatbelt quickly, leaning back in the seat. "So, did you guys have fun?"

Claire nodded, blonde curls bouncing as she turned to look back at me. "Loads of it. Well, I did. I don't think Peter was too thrilled. But he did chat it up with this really cute store clerk." She snickered and turned to look at Peter. He kept his eyes on the road.

"Well it would be rude to completely ignore her—not to mention I was worried she would start stripping or something." I laughed probably too loudly, but I had seen women get that desperate, and could only imagine having someone all over me when I was simply trying to go about my business.

Claire laughed too, before turning back to me. "So _anyway_, we decided we'd find a good place to stop and grab a bite. Then what do you think of a movie or something?" She looked overly eager.

I furrowed my brows at her, crossing my arms. "Didn't you say something about lying low?"

She shrugged noncommittally, "Lying low doesn't mean 'have no life'. As long as we don't draw attention to ourselves. Besides, my dad overloaded us with money and got Peter a steady, good-paying job. Seriously, my father has some awesome connections…but anyway, we need to do something with it all before we leave, right?" I felt my face pale.

Although it was probably expected, I hadn't even thought about even entertaining the idea that Claire and Peter might have to leave. The thought seemed horrifying, even though I barely knew them. Claire's arrival and consequent friendship had woken me up from the trance I had been slipping into, and having her leave would most likely stick me right back in that place—if not make the situation worse.

I swallowed a thick lump that had risen to my throat, opting to simply not think about it. Maybe things would change—or maybe they'd leave after I was healed enough to stand on my own. Even though I had—quite literally—only met her yesterday, Claire had become a crutch of sorts. Her acceptance and bright nature was something that had seemed to seep into me—and hanging out with things that weren't completely human seemed to be where I fit. Our situation just worked.

I sighed, feeling pathetic for my sudden dependency on someone I barely knew, and yet what was done was done. It wasn't like I could go back in time and stop myself from doing it—and if I had said ability, I would really stop myself from ever leaving Arizona, and skip the heartbreak and supernatural altogether.

I sighed and ran a hand through my hair, looking out the window. But Claire's hand appeared, snapping in front of my face. I tuned into what she was saying. "…Earth to Bella, anyone home?"

"What?" I asked slowly.

"I asked if that sounds good? Lunch then movie?"

I nodded. "Sounds great." And then proceeded to stare out the window. I felt their eyes on me, but ignored it as I sunk back into my thoughts.

I wasn't sure if I could take Claire leaving. She was the person who had snapped me from the rut I was stuck in—although it was unintentional on her part, I still owed that to her. Finding out what she and Peter were and could do had distracted me from those memories that I had buried in the back of my mind. And now, their friendship—or at least Claire's, as I still wasn't 100 percent sure about Peter—was all I had left to tie me to the world. Sure there was Charlie, but it wasn't the same. He simply lacked the empathy and ability to keep me alive.

Abruptly, my door was pulled open. Claire stood, waiting for me to get out. I glanced around as I unbuckled my seatbelt to see a small café I didn't recognize. I shrugged and followed her as she made her way to the door, which Peter held open for the both of us. I thanked him quietly, my mood still down from my thoughts.

We were sat at a small table, and I looked out the large window past the glowing open sign, just staring into the sky and hoping I'd see some kind of answer in the clouds. And yet it didn't come. Claire looked at me worriedly, and I wasn't able to see Peter's expression.

Finally, there was a hand on mine. I followed the dainty arm up to see Claire's light eyes, confused as she looked at me. "Bella? You haven't said a word since we got here, and it's been like ten straight minutes without so much as a blink. You okay?"

I fumbled for an excuse, before looking out the window and seeing the bookstore just down the street. That night…so long ago…the darkness and the laughing, drunken man came flooding back to me, and I shivered, but also found it as a reasonable excuse.

"Yeah," I whispered, not looking at her, hoping she wouldn't see that I was hiding the real reason away from her. "It's just that a while ago I had a run in with…some men…in the alley by that bookstore…" She gasped and her hand tightened on mine—I saw Peter straighten in his chair.

"They didn't get to actually…" I shivered, remembering the look in their eyes. "It still just worries me sometimes." It wasn't a complete lie, thankfully. There were nights when it was dark and wet that I remembered their loud voices and beer-stained breath. And my hair would still stand on end.

In fact, I hadn't told anyone before, not even _him_, how it had affected me…but I was jumpy for a whole week afterward, as if I expected them to come back after me, even though I knew they wouldn't.

But I pushed it away, as I had done so many times, even if it was to just make sure _He_ didn't see the nearly-panicked look in my eyes. I bit my lip and looked up at Claire, who was staring at me sympathetically. Her thumb brushed up and down my palm for a second before she let go of my hand.

"I'm so sorry," Peter said quietly. "I wouldn't have taken you there if I had known…" I waved his apology off quickly.

"It doesn't matter. They didn't get to…and I barely think of it anymore. I actually wasn't affected as badly as I probably should have been, so really, it's nothing." _Nothing compared to the thought of you leaving, taking Claire and never speaking to me again…I couldn't deal with you ripping my best friend away…curse me and my dependency…_

I cleared my throat, and thankfully, the waitress arrived at the table. We ate, idly chatting and occasionally teasing Peter about the cashier that had apparently 'practically offered herself to him on a silver platter'. I was able to forget my worries and slip into normal conversation happily.

When we were done, we all went up to the register to pay. Peter tried to pay for all of the bill, but I protested. He simply shook his head and went to hand the hostess the money—but I elbowed him in the side and tried to push him away. He didn't seem to expect that and stumbled, so I had enough time to fumble out ten dollars, about half the bill, and was about to hand it to her when he gently pushed my arm away, stuffing my hand back into my pocket and handing the lady the whole twenty. But I ducked under his arm and snatched it from her, giving her the ten.

"Please don't let him take the whole bill," I panted. She smiled, glanced between us, and nodded. I wiggled out from under his arm and walked over to Claire, who had a hand over her mouth to keep herself from laughing. I huffed, rolled my eyes, and slapped the twenty in her hand.

Peter turned around after he had given the woman the rest, and shot me an exasperated glance, before holding open the door for Claire and I. We made it out to the car and Claire immediately burst into laughter.

"Wow…Bella, only you…could possibly…rival Peter's stubbornness…" she ground out between giggles. I chuckled faintly.

"I just don't like other people paying for me." I shot Peter a glance through the rear-view mirror, and he rolled his eyes.

I directed them to a movie theater on the other side of town, but that was the only conversation the whole car ride. As we began to make our way to the outskirts, I could have sworn I saw a small flash of color in the forests…but I was probably wrong.

_AN: So yeah, I don't think it's too OOC for Bella to already be attached to Claire—after all, it took her all of what, seven seconds to fall for Edward? I hate him, I truly do, to be honest. He's just so…him-like that it irks me. Gah._

_But I just wanted to make sure we were on the same page. Over and out! :D_


	7. Healed

_AN: Well, more action! Yay! I love bringing baddies into the story! And yes, I know I'm rushing the Victoria fiasco, but it's not like I'm gonna jump us right into a fight, so don't worry. I'm kinda practiced in angst so we'll be good, lol._

_Uh. I dunno really what to say. I hope you can see the separations, because looking back, my little hyphen, asterisk, hyphen formula decided to disappear and stuff. But it wasn't too confusing then, so I'm not too worried about it. Though now, if this separation doesn't show up, I'm really sorry, I'll fix it, but until then I hope you can manage!_

_Bt I hope the characters act like themselves. I'm trying to keep them the least amount of OOC as possible, except for Bella…well, technically, as I said, she came off as a strong, sarcastic, witty girl in the beginning of the saga, so that's who I'm making her._

_Anyway, um, here's a chapter. A thanks to my great reviewers, you're totally awesome! And to those of you who don't review, I want to thank you also for reading!_

_Well, here we go! :D_

_Immolation Chapter 6: Healed_

_"And even the strongest of us fall sometime…"_

A week passed, and my routine changed—I was alive again, after all. I would talk with Angela and Jessica all through school, sit with Claire and Mike at lunch, and go home with Claire every day. From there, we would play games or watch movies or something—Peter joined us on Wednesday, but worked every day other than that, so I didn't get much of a chance to see him.

Though, as Thursday was drawing to a close—I would have to leave when our movie was over—our routine was interrupted with the ringing of her phone. Claire, who had haphazardly thrown her feet on my thighs, raced across the hall to get it. I didn't listen to what she said, but perked with worry as she shuffled slowly back into the room, plopping on the couch sadly.

"Claire? Something wrong?" I asked quietly.

She shook her head. It took her a minute to say anything. "Not _wrong_, per se, but I didn't expect it."

"Didn't expect what?" I asked casually. And suddenly, with one small sentence, my crutch was pulled from under me.

"My Dad wants me to visit this weekend. He wanted me to leave tomorrow, but I was able to put it off by telling him our plan. I still have to go Saturday and won't get back till Monday night." She looked over at me worriedly—I had had a sneaking suspicion she had somehow sensed my attachment to her.

"Will you be okay?" she asked quietly. I gulped, but remembered that it was barely even three days. She would be back.

I waved my hand, putting on my best nonchalant act. "Yeah, of course. You need a break from me anyway. Have fun with your family." She smiled at me.

"Thanks Bella. That means a lot. And you can always hang out with Peter—he probably doesn't have much else to do. He seems to think a night out on the town'll be suicide or something." She rolled her eyes. And I decided that if I didn't have my best friend here, I'd have to get to know Peter, because he was definitely the runner up in that department. Even though I technically didn't know much about him as a person.

I guess this would be my chance to change that.

I smiled back at her. "Sounds good." I paused for a moment, before grabbing the remote from next to me and tapping the play button. "Let's finish this up so we can get some sleep for tomorrow."

She beamed at me. "Sounds…awesome."

The movie ended, and my way home was nearly catastrophic. I began to hyperventilate, thinking that I'd wake up any moment and find that Claire and Peter had never come along at all—that everything was simply an elaborate dream. I pulled into the drive and leaned my head on the wheel of the truck.

_Breathe, Bella. There's no reason to freak out. She'll be gone for a few days and come back. Besides, you shouldn't get this attached to someone—look how well that worked out the last time. Don't be so stupid. Claire likes you, but it's like you're in love with her or something. Relax yourself._

I nodded to myself, but didn't feel reassured in the slightest. Walking in, I found that Charlie had taken care of his own dinner, which meant I had nothing to do but trudge upstairs and fall asleep.

III

He peered into the window of the sleeping girl. His mate had summoned him here, which was odd, as usually his days were spent either making love to her or watching the newborns. But since Laurent—who he couldn't help but feel extremely jealous over, being that he knew Victoria longer than himself—had disappeared, everything she did was rushed. She said she had been sure the mate had left the human, but now that he hadn't reported back…

He shook his head. Good riddance if he was dead—now there was no chance of competition. Victoria was all his.

He held his breath, jumping gracefully from his perch on the tree to her window seal. He hooked his shoes under the siding of the house as he quickly shoved open the window and rolled through—the human didn't even stir. He smiled, making sure he didn't breathe, and looked over her room. It was filled with her warmth, which assured him everything and anything he could grab would be covered in her scent.

Finally, he took a deep, controlled breath, and fought off the monster he kept just under the surface. Her veins seemed to call to him with that sweet scent, and his throat was parched…but he would never go against Victoria. And she wanted the human kept alive.

He followed his senses to two items—a pair of jeans and a large, blue book. They seemed to be the most potent things in the room—next to the human herself. She rolled over, uncovering her face, and he mused quickly that she was pale and pretty enough _to_ be a vampire. Of course he would never in his lifetime betray Victoria; just that at least it wasn't an _ugly_ prize they were going after. He had a feeling that would ruin the game for him.

He shook his head, cursing himself for being distracted, and escaped through the window in a flash. He shut it as an afterthought, before flitting into the trees, only a white blur to the normal eye.

III

I woke up groggily, but had a sense that today was the last of something…I was sad, after all…and then I remembered that Claire was leaving and she would be gone a while. I sighed, running a hand through my hair before twirling the ends on my fingers with my frustration. It just felt…unfair. I knew that was selfish of me to think, I knew it was wrong, and though I felt bad, I just couldn't help feeling that way. Claire's friendship had become my lifeline, and not having her to talk to or mess around with…would be odd. It was like I knew her my whole life, rather than simply a week.

I bit my lip. I was the wimpiest, most dependent person I'd ever known.

But then the memory of today flooded back to me—Peter would get home this morning, and he would have smuggled syringes back from the hospital. We would get there early so that way we wouldn't run the risk of a lot of people being there to conveniently drop in on us while we were injecting Nathan with Claire's blood.

I sighed, reaching for where I had taken off my jeans yesterday—I just didn't feel like dirtying another pair. And yet, my hand met the floor. I looked around the room, but they were nowhere to be found. I was _sure_ I had skipped throwing them in the hamper and just left them on the floor.

Clad in my baggy t-shirt and sweats, I made my way to the bathroom. I danced, shivering, on the cold tiles, peering into the basket to be met with Charlie's fishing gear. If my jeans were in there, they would surely be on top.

I grumbled, trudging into my room and throwing on a different pair and a simple black t-shirt—I would have to find it later, I suppose. I sighed and ran a brush through my hair, slipping on my sneakers only seconds before Claire and Peter pulled into my drive. I forewent my jacket, rushing downstairs to greet them. I slipped into the backseat, and Claire turned back to me as I was buckling my seatbelt.

"I'm so excited, Bella! If your theory runs true, I'll finally get to use my ability to help someone else!" she clapped her hands to emphasize this point. I laughed at her almost childish antics, looking out the window as houses rushed by.

"I hope so. Not only will Nathan be healed, but this'll be some pretty useful information," Peter agreed.

I rubbed my hands together. "What if it doesn't work?" Always the pessimist.

Claire echoed my thoughts, "Don't be such a downer Bella! It was your idea, after all, and you're pretty smart." I blushed. "Besides, your logic totally makes sense."

"Thanks. I just can't help but think…"

"Then don't think," Claire reasoned. "There's nothing to think about, anyway. We're gonna try it, and if it doesn't work…well, we tried," she slowly trailed off, her words getting quieter and more discouraged. But she perked again. "It'll work."

I bit my lip and glanced out my window. "I hope so."

We didn't speak further until we got to the hospital. I looked over to Peter, expecting him to pull out a big black Doctor's bag or something. "Do you have the…?"

He nodded, patting his pocket where I could see three tube-shaped lumps. I licked my lips, nodding back—it was pretty stupid to think he'd be so obvious about it. I looked over at Claire, who danced over to us, excitement rolling off her in waves.

"I can't wait to actually _save_ someone rather than _being_ saved all the time," she gushed to me, before latching onto my arm and dragging me to the doors. They opened and Peter walked in after us, asking the lady at the desk to tell us where Nathan Petrelli was. He followed us—well, more accurately, followed Claire, as I had no idea where we were going and was only able to keep up because she kept a firm grip on my sleeve—up to the the room.

We entered to find Nathan asleep. I hadn't seen him since my run-in with Peter at the hospital, when I shared the same room, but I had heard he woke up once only for the doctors to deem it best they put him into a small medically induced coma for his next three surgeries. I shivered, sympathy and pity running over my heart and making a lump form in my throat.

Peter walked over to Nathan's side, squeezing his hand, before looking up at Claire and taking a deep breath. "Ready?"

"Ready," she confirmed, before letting go of me so she could roll up her sleeve. As Peter grabbed a syringe and took off the cap, exposing the needle, I felt my stomach churn. I turned around, holding my mouth and nose.

"Bella?" Claire asked curiously.

"I…blood makes me sick. And needles. That's probably half the reason I fainted when I saw Peter…that and the shock," I said, though it was muffled under my hand. I wasn't sure if she nodded or just didn't respond, but waited five minutes, singing songs in my head to distract myself.

"Bella!" Claire's happy exclamation made me turn around. Nathan's IV was clouded with red, but as it drained into the tube and his bloodstream, I watched in wonder…he was healing. His burns and scratches were covered with brand new skin, his nose and lips reshaping, his hair growing. Pretty soon there was a clean cut business looking man, lying there as if nothing had ever happened to him.

Claire squealed quietly and I laughed, but it was cut short as I was suffocated, and my feet left the floor. I looked around in shock, before realizing what was going on—my face first drained of color, before flooding with red.

Peter had tightly wrapped his arms around me, apparently forgetting that not everyone had super strength, and had even picked me up in his joy. And now I was at risk of being crushed to death. And yet he seemed so happy that I didn't say anything, simply struggled my arm up and around him in response. I patted his back lightly for a few seconds, before it turned deathly awkward for me—and I could see my cheeks turning from red to a purplish color.

"Peter," I choked. "Air…need…"

He seemed to realize this, and let me fall to the floor and loosened his grip on me, but didn't let go. "Thank you so much Bella. I don't know what I would do if Nathan had to live the rest of his life…forfeit his career…all because of me…" his arms fell away.

I felt sadness twist in my heart, just because someone else was sad. I placed my hand on his shoulder lightly. "It wasn't any trouble. Besides, you injected him—if you hadn't been here, it would have been up to Claire, and I don't know about her, but I'd have a heart attack trying to take my own blood…" And although it was the truth, we both laughed and turned to Nathan, who seemed to have woken up.

Claire was quizzing him anxiously, asking if he felt any pain or was tired or if he needed anything. The look on his face showed that he simply needed a moment of silence, but I pretended not to notice, letting Claire have her fill. Although, the fact that he was awake struck me.

I turned to Peter, who was standing silently at the foot of the bed. "Do you think the blood counteracts medications?" After all, he had been drugged into that coma.

"I don't know," Peter whispered. "But I'd guess."

Nathan finally turned away from Claire, and his eyes skated over me straight to Peter. "Peter," he said slowly. "Did you do this?"

He laughed, making his way to his brother's bedside—and as he grabbed Nathan's hand like he had so many times before, I couldn't help but feel like I was intruding on a family moment, and so I whispered to Claire that I'd be in the main lobby if they needed me.

I wandered down the halls back the way we came, finding the lobby and following it down to the waiting room. Only an older couple—probably in their forties or fifties, if I had to guess—were there. I sat across from them, shot them a kind smile, and grabbed a magazine to flip through.

I had been going through the cooking section, trying to memorize as many recipes as I could, when I heard someone walk in. Out of curiosity, I looked up to see Peter staring at me oddly. He walked over, sitting down next to me.

"Everything okay?"

I nodded and smiled. "Yeah, it's great. I'm really happy it all worked out and Nathan is healed." He smiled back at me, but then frowned.

"Then why did you leave?"

I started at the question, but gave an honest answer. "Well, I mean, you guys are family and I didn't want to interrupt a moment or anything."

He rolled his eyes at me, getting up and sticking his hand out for me to take. I thanked him, allowing him to pull me up, and set the magazine in the rack as he walked and began to speak. "That's it? I thought something was wrong."

I furrowed my brow. "Well, no, but I thought you'd want time alone." He shook his head.

"This isn't the movies, Bella, you didn't have to do that." And I felt strangely flattered, although why was beyond me.

"I'm sorry," I said quietly.

He shook his head again, sticking his hands in his pockets as he walked. He looked down at me with a smile, and I vaguely noticed how short I seemed to be. "No need to be sorry. I just got worried that you were sick from the blood or something."

"Good thing we're at a hospital, of all places, I guess," I laughed, mimicking his action of putting my hands in my pockets. We wandered up the hall to the room, exchanging pointless palaver. When we did make it up, Nathan was back to sleep and Claire was sitting in the chair next to him, looking out the window.

"Bella! You alright?" she asked jumping up and over to me. I nodded, smiling at her.

"She just got the weird notion we wanted privacy or something," Peter said with a small chuckle.

Claire pulled me into an unexpected hug. "Thanks Bella. You're too sweet. And thanks so much for coming up with this idea—it feels good to help someone."

"No problem. I'll help whenever I can." With that, we all decided that there was nothing left for us to do, Nathan would need rest, and Claire needed to pack. So we left.

III

Bob Bishop stood over the ashes, a sweet perfume permeating the air around them. He took a deep breath before turning on his heel, looking at the crater that was left by none other than Peter Petrelli. There was no doubt in his mind—the only question was whether or not he was still here or had left by now.

He scratched his chin, unsure of how to go about finding that information. He wanted to skip the interrogations and intimidations and just get Petrelli back already. That was when the idea came to him—there was another missing Petrelli here, and he had no doubt the brothers would be traveling together.

He beckoned his daughter to him, her blonde hair bouncing as she stopped right next to him obediently. "Yes Daddy?"

He didn't look over at her. "Find out if Nathan Petrelli was admitted into the hospital around here." She nodded and took off out of the forest toward her car. He turned again, examining the ashes his daughter had told him about. So far everything she had said had been true, down to the strangely bitter, yet beautiful smell the ashes seemed to exude. And she had said the man had claimed to be a vampire.

He was still unsure on whether or not to believe it, but her description was detailed, and he just didn't think she was creative enough to make that all up, so she must be telling the truth…she had said the man lunged, more like a lion or tiger than a human.

But he couldn't fall for something as stupid as a vampire…could he?

Well, there _was_ only one way to find out, wasn't there?

"What was that name again?" He turned to the Haitian, who wasn't looking at him.

"Ah yes. Isabella Swan."


	8. Breakdowns

_AN: BELLA/PETER bonding! YAY! Ahem, but yeah, I'm getting pretty tired of no action, so all that will change soon. And I also introduced another favorite character of mine—I love him to pieces! But *gasp* under what circumstances?_

_Eh, anyway, I'm still going strong on this ultimate writing streak. I dread school approaching. DREAD IT!_

_But yeah, I've gotta go. Grr much? Yeah, I'm blabbering because I'm tired._

_So, this chapter is now up. Um…I hope Bella and Peter are at least slightly in character. I try, but fail. Darn me._

_I will now allow you to continue reading because I have just about nothing to say. Eh. First time for everything, I guess._

_Immolation Chapter 7: Breakdowns_

_"Comfort can come from the most unexpected places…"_

The next day, I woke up to the sound of pattering rain. I sighed sadly at my ceiling, knowing that Claire probably had left with her father already. I looked over at my clock—startled to see that it was noon—and was reassured that that was the case. Noah most likely wanted to spend as much time with his daughter as he could, and the way he had pleaded with her the one time we met gave me the feeling that he would have shown up at 12:01 simply because it was the earliest possible time the next day he could get her. I snickered at the image of Claire, clad in her pajamas, being woken up by her eager father, ready to gather her and leave.

And yet it didn't last long, knowing that she was gone for a few days. Of course I would hang out with Peter…that is, if he wanted me to, which I couldn't be sure of. I sighed and ran my hand through my hair—Peter was iffy with me. I, of course, didn't mind him, but sometimes he'd joke and laugh with me, and others it seemed like he was irritated by my presence or something. I was beginning to get whiplash.

I winced.

I sat up, looking around my room. I wasn't sure how late Peter usually slept, but I assumed that by the time I made my way out there he'd be awake. So, I began to get dressed and brush my teeth, grabbing a quick glass of juice on my way out. Then a note caught my attention—though it was just that Charlie was staying over at Billy's for a prolonged fishing trip, and that there was money if I wanted to order out in the cabinet. I crumpled it and threw it away, grabbing some of my own money and making my way out to the truck.

I dropped off the bills Charlie had left out at the post office, before driving out to Port Angeles. I made my way to the bookstore and pulled in, finding that virtually no one was here. I ambled through the door and nodded to the man at the desk, before browsing the far back, very small _'Science: Biology' _section of the store. I was worried that they wouldn't have it and I'd have to go through the embarrassment of telling Peter his book had pulled a Houdini when I saw the dark blue cover flash behind something else. I felt a tinge of annoyance at those pesky people—who I experienced too much for my liking over at Newton's—that seemed too lazy to ever put anything they grabbed in the right place, making that much more work for the personnel.

I sighed and shook my thoughts away, bringing the book to the counter and paying for it. I declined a bag and—blushing furiously—a date, before running out to my truck and setting off down the now familiar road to Peter and Claire's house. It looked the same as I pulled up, hiding the book under my jacket, and walked as fast as my wobbly feet would allow to the door. And yet, as I rang the bell, I felt as if Claire's absence was a visible thing.

Peter answered the door and looked surprised to see me. "Bella?" He allowed me entry so I could get out of the steadily worsening rain. I pulled open my jacket to reveal the book, sticking it into his hands.

"I finished it, finally. Thanks for letting me borrow it." I held my breath, half expecting him to notice that it wasn't his, somehow, and get angry, yet he simply thanked me and shut the door.

I began to take off my jacket and hang it up, but when I looked up at him he seemed confused. He didn't speak, though, simply looked at me. His eyes narrowed gradually, and his expression was almost that of anger. I shrunk away—suddenly, my whole idea of getting to know him better sounded like a flop. He didn't look very happy to see me.

We stood there for what felt like hours, when finally he gasped and seemed to come back to the present—before clutching his head. That was when I noticed just a small trickle of blood running down over his lips and chin. "Oh my God," I whispered, not thinking as I wiped it away with my thumb. "Your nose is bleeding!"

He pulled my hand away and looked down at my now blood covered thumb, and I resisted the urge to gag, taking a deep breath out of my mouth. "So it is," he agreed quietly, before promising he would get me a paper towel and disappearing into the kitchen. When he came back I gladly took it from him and wiped away the blood, turning to throw it away in a nearby waste basket.

"What happened just now?" I asked after a moment of silence.

He responded with a question. "Why can't I read your mind?" I started at the unexpected turn of conversation.

And I tried to ignore the searing pain in my chest, though still grimaced. I swallowed it back and closed my eyes. "What?"

I opened them to find him staring at me, as if he was trying to read me like a book. "Your mind…it's like there's a wall, blocking me from getting in."

I shook my head, remembering that Peter had said before he had the power of telepathy. "I…I don't know. You can't read it? At all?"

He shook his head, guiding me into the living room as he spoke. "No, it's like there's a shell made of steel, and all I could hear was static…I tried to force my way in, but didn't get a single stray thought." He plopped down on the couch, and I took the spot across from him. "And then it began to actually _hurt_ to try to get in—like I was whacking myself in the head with a hammer."

I bit my lip, processing all this. So my mind was unreadable to everyone, I suppose. "I'm sorry," I said eventually.

He looked surprised. "Sorry for what?"

"Well, I didn't mean to make you hurt yourself," I said it like it was obvious.

He laughed, "Bella, you didn't make me do anything. I was the stupid one who kept trying to get in even though it was apparent that I can't…which makes me think…" he trailed off, staring at me with curious, if not slightly awed eyes.

I apparently wasn't catching on. "Makes you think what?"

"Well," he said slowly. "That you're not quite as normal as you think you are."

I stared at him dumbly, my mind simply refusing to understand what he said. It was like I knew what he was talking about, and yet I didn't. "Excuse me?"

He reached over next to him, where he had set _Activating Evolution,_ and thumbed through it, finally handing me the same list he had showed me a week ago. He pointed to a group labeled _Negators_. "I think you would fall under this category. I don't remember ever meeting anyone I couldn't read before…and it's the only thing that makes sense."

I read through the list quickly but didn't pick up anything. I was absolutely shocked by what Peter was trying to say—that I could have a power! Like him or Claire! That was preposterous! I was just Bella Swan, the normal everyday human who got into more trouble than she was supposed to…not someone _worth_ anything, as Peter was trying to say.

I winced again, remembering the James fiasco. '_You are worth it.'_

_Apparently not,_ I thought bitterly.

I shook from my thoughts to find Peter looking at me. His expression was, again, a mix of curiosity and awe, his toffee eyes intense as he watched me. I couldn't help but feel unnerved at the way he looked at me—not quite like I was an interesting science experiment, but close. Like I was interesting piece of art that he was trying to judge or something.

I snorted abruptly. _Me,_ even _thinking_ about comparing myself to art was hilarious.

He jumped. "What's so funny?"

I waved my hand. "Nothing. It wasn't even that funny anyway." He seemed to find the matter not worth pushing, but instead directed me back to the conversation at hand.

"So what do you think? It makes sense, right? You have to be special Bella—there's no other explanation." I nodded, finding that I didn't want to discuss the matter further. It seemed like this past week had been about me trying to become a normal teenage girl again, and the prospect of that all falling to pieces simply didn't appeal to me. While I did feel a vague excitement—that I could have an ability that might allow even scrawny _me_ to save the world, it also held more responsibility than I could handle right now.

I sighed and ran a hand through my hair. Then, without looking at him, I asked, "So, got any plans for today?"

III

Matt Parkman walked quickly in his irritation. His coffee swirled up dangerously, nearly tipping out of his cup as he recalled the meetings for whatever the hell it was they were negotiating. He wasn't sure what Janice was trying to get out of him, but he wasn't happy about it. Of course he'd support his unborn child—the nerve she had to even dare think about questioning that was astounding. And when the words came from her mouth, he wanted to rant and rave and pull his hair out.

_I'd like to think I'm not a very angry person,_ he grumbled mentally. _But when people make statements like that outta the blue for no reason other than spite…it makes my skin crawl. How dare she think I'd not make sure my own kid lived with all his necessities and more?_

He shook it from his head, resolving not to let that ruin his day. He had made it clear that everything would be done on his part, and that was simply all he could do. Now, he was thinking about seeing Molly again. But first he figured he'd grab them a bite to eat, and he had heard of that new little deli opening up down by that art gallery.

He, honestly, preferred to walk. It was easier than running the risk of road rage in this Godforsaken city. He chuckled as the image of him plowing over multiple cars with his cruiser came to mind, but he quashed it and threw his now empty Styrofoam cup into a nearby garbage can. He looked up and stilled. He felt his face pale.

His eyes ran over the canvas that was obviously in the style of Isaac Mendez. He had heard of the man's ability to paint the future, and he had also heard of his amazing accuracy. He hoped that for once, he got it all wrong. Frantically, he looked up and down the streets, hoping he'd be lucky enough to find someone that would point out that it wasn't really Mendez's work or something. But of course it was nearly deserted, as no one pretty much ever came this way.

He turned back, appalled. _This can't be the future…it can't!_ _Who could possibly cause this…and who is that?_ He simply couldn't believe this—was this really what their fate was reduced to? What could possibly lead to something like _that_?

A woman, having noticed his staring from the inside, smiled and came out, patting his arm. "I see you're interested in this piece. It's actually for sale, if you'd be interested…" He tuned her out. As if he'd want to buy _this_ monstrosity. But he listened in as she began to tell him about it. "…one of Mendez's later works. As you can see, up in the top right corner, its title is _'Revenge of the Swan'_. I think it's brilliant, if I do say so myself, although quite graphic. So, are you interested?"

He stuttered, his eyes never leaving the painting. "No, no. I'm just…I'm looking. Admiring. I'm a fan of his." She nodded, seeming disheartened by the fact he wasn't a buyer, and left without a word.

He stared, analyzing every inch and stroke he could. That was when he spotted the sign: _'Forks, Washington Welcomes you!'_ He knew his destination. And he knew who he had to see there.

III

I sighed and leaned back in the chair. "Why don't you seem excited by your powers?" Peter asked. I looked over at him and shrugged.

"I'm not really sure, honestly."

He chuckled and looked at the wall. "I'm just saying, most teenage girls would freak out and go call everyone or something."

I laughed, genuinely, throwing my head back at the very _prospect_ of me being a gossip mongrel like Jessica Stanley. He looked over at me, amusement in his eyes. "What?"

I shook my head, calming myself enough to speak. "I guess you can say I'm really not most teenage girls. I barely count as a teenager."

"How old are you?" he asked.

"Eighteen, technically. But it's been a joke in my family that I was born middle-aged—an accurate one, to tell the truth." I smiled at the memories of my mom constantly rolling her eyes or crossing her arms, acting like the teenager as _I _acted like the parent. I would even have to tell her when to get in the shower or go to bed!

"Wow. That is accurate." I looked over at him curiously, and he began to elaborate. "Well, when you're here you help Claire with her homework or read or something—even when she does convince you to play board games or cards you go for Monopoly or Clue or something adults I know still play. It's weird." I started as he said this.

"How'd you know all that?" I questioned, awed by his ability to seem to actually know me even though we barely spoke.

He shrugged nonchalantly. "I've been called observant once or twice." I felt a pang in my heart at buried memories, but it wasn't that strong as I focused more on the conversation. Thinking about his words, I frowned.

"Tell me about you." He didn't seem to understand what I was saying.

"Tell you what about me?"

"I don't know," I said, blushing slightly and looking away. "Anything, I guess. It's just I don't really know you—only bits and pieces that sound more like they belong in an L. Ron Hubbard novel or something."

He laughed, and I noticed that slight pink tinge to his face again. "See what I mean? You even know L. Ron Hubbard. He was writing in what, the thirties?"

I shook my head, "Don't go changing the subject on me."

He sighed, putting his hands up in defeat. "Alright, I guess I'll start from the beginning." And then, my jaw dropped. And stayed open the whole time. He described his dreams in which he could fly and told me about how he confided in his brother, who didn't believe him. He said that frustrated him greatly because he just had a feeling that he was onto something bigger. His mannerisms grew more animated as he got into his story—and soon I found myself perched on the edge of my seat, leaning toward him as he continued to speak, leaning forward toward me in turn.

When he stopped with the explosion, I was snapped awake, because I had been almost literally hanging on each thing he said. Not only was everything so amazing and interesting, but he was a wonderful story-teller, and his adjective usage, I had to say, was beautiful. But that was beside the point—I wanted to hear more. It didn't even register that his story ended at the explosion.

"What then?" I asked impatiently.

He laughed, and I felt his breath fan on my face. We weren't that close, were we? Just in case, I sat up straighter and sat back in my chair more—it had been to the point where I technically wasn't even sitting in it anymore. "There's nothing more to tell. You were there for the rest."

"But…" I began, unsure of what to say. "I mean, I read a lot. And…that was the _perfect_ sci-fi romance-drama. And there were _so_ many loose ends…there has to be more. Don't hold out on me," I warned.

He chuckled, but it was faint. "As flattering as that is, I really don't want there to be any more. As you know, things in books only get worse—or better, depending on how you look at it. And I _really_ don't want to find out what's worse than exploding." I giggled, seeing his point.

"That's true, I suppose. It's just…" I paused. What was I trying to say?

"Your life…has been so amazing. I mean, all of that in how short a time? I've had eighteen years of nearly nothing…wow…you're probably one of the luckiest people I've met," I said slowly.

He quirked an eyebrow, giving me a sidelong glance. "Exploding is lucky nowadays? I didn't think I was getting that old."

I punched his arm—only hurting myself, though I didn't let it show. "You're not old, Peter. But not the exploding part—the powers part."

"Explain."

"Well…think about it." I gestured my arms in a wide arc motion as I spoke, "You have these amazing superpowers, and you can do so much to help the world. I mean—you already have. Think about what _more_ you can do—you're a real life superman! And you only get more powerful as you meet more special people!" He nodded.

"I guess I didn't look that far ahead. You're right…and, honestly, I did always want to do something extraordinary. Is that selfish?" He turned to me.

I shrugged. "Maybe a little, but everyone feels that way. Being able to do something special and extraordinary would be awesome, so you're not wrong in hoping for it." He smiled.

"Thanks. And speaking of special, you never told me why you're not excited about your powers. And you just sat here and had a fit about how awesome mine are." He raised a questioning eyebrow once again.

I sighed and looked away from him. "I…I guess because, while spending time with Claire, I've been trying to get used to being normal—and to stop _wanting_ something extraordinary. I was out of it, like I've said…" I had to clear my throat to keep it from breaking. "And it wasn't like I was alive. I was slipping into this zombie-like routine, and making everyone worried…and, I wanted to get over that…"

He shook his head. "What?"

I shot him my best exasperated glance. "Basically, before you came along, I was hoping for something special…but then I learned I can't have it…" I paused, and cursed the stray tear that plopped to the floor. I begged the heavens to not have let him seen.

And yet, to my dismay, he gently put his fingers under my chin and made me face him. "Hey, don't cry," he said, using the pad of his thumb to swipe away another stray tear. I plucked his hand away from me and pulled my sleeve over my own, wiping up the wet trails and sniffling.

"What's wrong?" he asked softly.

I sighed and tears replaced the ones I had just gotten rid of. "I…I met this guy. And I fell in love—you know, first love and all that." My voice cracked and wavered as I continued. "He promised me forever—and I was stupid enough to believe him…but every time I saw him I just felt so…so…" I wasn't sure how to explain that feeling that he deserved someone better than me—pretty and strong and fast and immortal. Of course I couldn't reveal vampires without sounding like a nutcase.

"I felt so inadequate and unworthy every time I was around him. He was just so perfect in my eyes…" Tears continued to track silently down my face, and I just thanked the sky that I wasn't full out sobbing. I looked up to see sympathy in Peter's eyes as he listened. "And then…my birthday…the party went wrong and I saw it freaked him out. I gave him space because that's obviously what he wanted, but then—" I abruptly cut myself short.

"He just left. He took me to the forest and told me he didn't…he didn't…he didn't want me…and I…I—I wasn't good enough f—for him," I began to stutter my last words, small sobs and hiccups coming on. "And then he just…took off…and I t—tried to follow him…b—but I didn't know where I was going a—and…and…"

I sighed and stopped for a full fifteen seconds, trying to gather myself. I put my face in my hands and took a deep breath. And then I jumped as I felt something wrap comfortingly around me—but immediately knew it was Peter's arm. I bit my lip to quiet the sobs.

"And he's just gone…he took everything I had of him…" And then, with my next words, I wailed and turned fully into Peter's chest to soak his shirt. "He even took the present he gave me!" I sobbed and shook and cried.

And didn't stop. Peter held me, said a few things, but I couldn't possibly hear them. I would occasionally gasp for air, before sobbing and crying and blubbering something I didn't even know the meaning of. I was just gone in this dark misery I had constantly been holding back from both he and Claire.

Thinking about them only made it worse, in fact. Not only did it remind me of how pathetically dependent I was, but they had so many more problems than I did—and they were huge. A psychopath was after Claire and she had to hide from this infamous 'Company' so she wouldn't be kidnapped and tested like a lab rat. And Peter…I didn't even know where to begin with him.

Yet here I was, completely normal and happy aside from my break-up. And I couldn't keep myself together.

Pathetically pathetic.

Those words ringing in my head, I forced the tears to stop. I forced myself to unwrap my arms from around Peter's neck, and forced myself to scoot back to the chair, as somewhere in there I had migrated to the couch. I wiped away my tears and didn't look at Peter for a long moment as my cheeks flooded with a blush. I bent and allowed my hair to act as a curtain as embarrassment trampled any other emotion—besides, perhaps, horror at my actions. I had just allowed myself to become this huge, blubbering baby right in front of him. How idiotic could I be?

"Are you okay now?" he asked gently. "Or should I make sure I'm insured for floods?"

I laughed at the—admittedly—crappy joke, my cheeks cooling. I looked up at him and gave him my best smile; it wasn't much, but I tried. "I'm fine, thank you. I'm really sorry about your shirt."

He looked down and just seemed to notice that the whole front of his shirt from the chest down—literally—was soaked. He waved it off though, "I own a washer. It's alright." I smiled at him again, and it was easier this time.

"I'm sorry for breaking down on you," I whispered. "I'll leave, if y—"

"Don't worry about it, Bella," he chuckled. "I mean, I don't deal with crying girls every day, but this isn't the first time. And you don't have to go. Just give me a bit of a warning before you freak out next time, okay?"

I laughed, my mood brightening as he repeatedly threw in slight humor to the situation. "I don't intend to, but I'll remember that."

There was a moment of rather comfortable silence, in which I simply cooled down and cleared my mind, staring out the window at the now pouring rain. Finally, he spoke. "So, now that that's out in the open, what's your favorite color?"

I started. "What does that have to do with anything?"

He merely shrugged. "It seemed like a good way to change the subject."

I paused, thinking of an answer. What _was_ my favorite color? The last time I was asked that question…well, I didn't think about that. I didn't want a repeat of my sob-fest, because I was pretty sure Peter would rethink not making me leave if I tried to pull that again. I went through each color, and didn't find one that I liked more than another—or one that I disliked.

"I like them all, I guess," I said after a while. "Colors in general are pretty, and we're lucky we have the ability to see them, unlike dogs, for example."

He took this in, before nodding. "I agree. That's a great way to think of it, I guess. You know, you're one of the most optimistic pessimists I've ever seen." I threw him a smile, yet couldn't find a witty comeback, so just remained silent.

"Animal?"

"Um," I began. "Again, animals in general are beautiful…except for bugs," I made a face to emphasize my disgust for the horrible little creatures that, sadly, were essential to nature.

He laughed, and moved on before I could ask him his favorite animal, "Food?"

I poked my stomach. "Food is good. I'll eat just about anything."

"Then what do you think about pizza? Because we're running out of things to cook and I'm getting pretty hungry." My stomach agreed before I could, loudly. I blushed.

"That would be a yes on my part," I said quietly, and he disappeared to call after asking me what I liked on it. He told me I could put on a movie or watch TV, and yet I didn't feel the need. I found that I preferred to talk to Peter, now that he was no longer awkward or hesitant around me. It seemed since we had healed Nathan, he was in a better mood. Speaking of Nathan…

Peter walked in. "He said it'd probably be thirty minutes or so, which is amazing." I furrowed my brows.

"Amazing?"

"You have no idea how long they take in Manhattan." I laughed slightly and nodded.

"Hey," I began as he sat down, "how's Nathan?"

He smiled. "He's great. The doctors are amazed by his recovery, and still scratching their heads. He'll be out tomorrow, actually. I need to take him to the airport."

"But Bella," he said after a moment. "I never really got to properly thank you. If you hadn't thought of that…I couldn't bear for Nathan to live the rest of his life like that, with his career ruined because of me…" he trailed off, and instinctively, I reached forward and put my hand on his.

He looked up at me and I smiled sadly. "Don't even worry about it Peter—it's better now. Why keep beating yourself up about it?"

I thought I hear him mutter something about preaching, but I didn't quite understand. "Thank you, Bella. Again."

I smiled wider. "'Least I can do for the man who saved my life."

He rolled his eyes. "That's an exaggeration you know," he argued.

"It's not, though," I replied seriously. "You saved my life, and I could never fully repay you for that. You saved Charlie and Renee so much trouble and worry…and besides, I wouldn't have been able to meet you and Claire if you hadn't saved me."

He smiled. "Are you saying you like us?"

I scoffed. "No, I just spend all of my time with you guys." We laughed, and then I brought my hand back, noticing I had probably left it on his longer than was socially acceptable.

With all the sentimental bits taken care of, we continued well on into the night with friendly banter and munching on a rapidly cooling pizza. In fact, I didn't even notice the clock tick into tomorrow.

_REALLY QUCIK AN: I just wanted to know what your guess on the painting is. It'd really interest me to see some ideas! I mean, I already know and all that, but I wanna see what ya'll come up with. _

_Also, I personally hate this chapter. Maybe that's weird; I just always freak out and wonder if I got them in character, you know? Again, loads of dialogue. And yet…in the end, I still love Peter to pieces. _

_Alright, I hope you enjoyed!:D_


	9. Special

_AN: Ah! Took FOREVER! Sorry about that._

_Alright, loads of development in this chapter, as well as more characters introduced. And I'm not even done yet, how exciting! But yes, pretty soon it will all come together in my grandmaster plot of doom…_

_And until then, you must wait. I'm evil. Eh. *shrugs carelessly*_

_But, more of that awesome Peter/Bella interaction, which I love. Although, not quite romance, I'm at that stage where I'm trying to show that there kind of possibly could be, you know what I mean? It'll come soon enough, though, I assure you. And I'm uber excited about it!_

_So, here's the chapter after a bit longer of a wait than you're used to—after all, it's not THE day after I submitted the other. My streak is broken. :'(_

_Ah well. Easy come, easy go. Enjoy! :D_

_Oh, wait, to sally94: the painting was something to that affect, you are correct!_

_And also to Allebasii: I will admit I did like the idea of using a painting of the future in the story, but I swear on my life I'm not gonna copy! And I've read Interview With a Vampire—love the book! And yes, it does put the Cullens to shame, lol. Edward is right in feeling ashamed…I feel sick saying that. It's just his creepy possessive-ness has begun to bug the crap outta me. I know you're a vampire and all, but that gives you NO right to sneak into my room and watch me sleep…perv…_

_And ah, I'm ranting too! But thanks for telling me about the prequel, I will read it soon, promise! And if I ever need advice I'll be sure to come to you! :D_

_Alright, now you may continue!_

_Immolation Chapter 8: Special_

_"Talents can stay hidden until you stumble across them by accident, or desperately need them…"_

The sun was warm on my face and I fluttered my eyes, rolling over to get away from it—only to land with a loud plop on the carpet. _Wait…there isn't any carpet in my room…_ I cracked open an eye to examine my surroundings, not even phased by the pain in my shoulder and chest from the fall. White carpet that simply reeked of new house met me, and I craned my neck to see the living room of Claire and Peter.

_That's right…Peter and I hung out last night…_ I sat up and looked at the thin blanket that had wrapped itself around my legs, effectively making me look like a burrito. I wiggled out of it and looked around for Peter—then realized he had probably gone to his room after I fell asleep. But got a—dare I say pleasant?—surprise when I saw a crumpled blanket and pillow on the couch across from the chair I had been in.

Peter walked into the room then, and I could smell something…burning. I knitted my brow, still partially asleep. "Is the house on fire?"

He sighed. "Close enough. I'm cooking."

I felt the corners of my lips tug upward. "Wow. First time for everything, I guess." He chuckled and nodded, before walking over and sticking out his hand.

"Need some help?" I blushed and took it, nodding and saying thanks. I followed him into the kitchen to be met with a hilarious sight. Peter spread his arms in an arc, "This is my attempt at making pancakes."

I bit my lip to stop myself from laughing, but found it a wasted effort. Some weird, brownish goo was _all_ over the counters, stove, and a pan. He rolled his eyes. "Yeah, it's hilarious, but I'm kind of hungry. But not hungry enough to eat…whatever that is." He pointed to the pan, where a dark brown lump was sizzling.

I continued to laugh for a moment, but managed to reign myself in enough to speak. "It's sweet that you tried," I consoled him.

He grumbled. "_Tried_."

I laughed again. "It takes practice."

He crossed his arms and looked at me from the corner of his eye, though I detected playfulness about his features. "I thought you said you've been cooking since you were little?"

I shrugged. "If I had left it to Renee, I would have starved. Or died from shock."

"Shock?"

I shook my head with mock solemnity, "You don't wanna know what she tried to shove down my throat. Hell, to this day I still don't know." He laughed, but I made a shooing motion. "You go ahead and do whatever. I'll salvage…" I glanced back at the mess of a kitchen he left. "…what I can."

"Can I watch?"

I turned around and gave him my best why-would-you-want-to-do-that look. "What?"

He shrugged coolly, "Bella, I'm a twenty-nine year old man. I need to learn sometime."

I laughed. "I'll give you that…alright. Just…" I shot him another look after surveying the irreversible damage. "…don't touch anything, please." He nodded and leaned back against the counter as I dug through his fridge. I found eggs and bacon and, in his pantry, some beans. I knew with the right spices and the tortilla shells I had spotted earlier, I could make some breakfast burritos easily. I felt his eyes on me as I moved, which was sort of unnerving, and yet not as bad as I would have thought it would be.

I set everything down and began to clean up, which wasn't a very hard or long chore, thank goodness. The cooking didn't take very long either—or maybe it was just that I seemed to space out while doing it. I just had a…bad feeling. About what, exactly, was beyond me. I simply did.

Either way, breakfast reached the table. Peter and I sat across from each other, and as I looked up at him, I couldn't help but feel painfully embarrassed about my behavior from the night before. Although after the breakdown it was easy to talk with him again; now, in the light of day, I felt awkward.

I chewed thoughtfully on my burrito, hoping the right words to say would fall out of the sky. But before they could, Peter's hand appeared in my line of vision. "You alright?" his voice was concerned, as it always seemed to be. I smiled.

"Fine," I said. "Just…thinking."

"About?"

"Nothing," I paused, but realized that he could mistake it for defensiveness. "Not like, I don't wanna tell you, just literally, I was zoning out there. Sorry."

He shook his head, indicating that it was alright. There was a moment of silence that, to me, seemed pretty awkward. I sighed, angry at myself. Why had it been so easy to be around him yesterday, even after my cry-fest, and yet today I couldn't think of anything to say to him?

Maybe it was because…other than _them_, Claire, and my family, I'd never really had other friends. And Peter was definitely what I'd call a friend. Briefly, I wondered if he considered me a friend, but pushed it from my mind. I honestly doubted it—after all, it was probably Claire that asked him to hang out with me. She knew I had nothing else to do.

But it was strange. What do you say to someone who was…what, eleven years older than you? And a man, no less. Not to mention all the extraordinary things that only complicated the situation further. I was speechless around him—caught between wonder at his abilities and nervousness just because he was…him. Not anything personal, but he was tall and intense and…well, said abilities definitely made me worry about getting on his bad side.

I bit my lip, feeling like the silence was pressing in on me. I scrambled for something to break it with. "So…you said you think I could be…?" I didn't complete the sentence. I simply didn't _want_ to.

He understood anyway. "I'm pretty sure. I can read anybody and everybody. Except for you." Finished with my burrito, I rested my chin on my hand.

"But…I can't be special," I was simply pointing out the obvious. I hung out with special people and…well, other things, but I wasn't _one _of them. "Try again," I urged finally. It would work this time. "Maybe there was just…bad reception last time."

He laughed, but then the humor faded from his eyes, replaced with that same intense concentration. Again, I felt like he was staring straight through my eyes and into me, unlocking all my secrets and memories. And though it was uncomfortable to think that he was able to do that, I didn't let my insecurities show.

Until I felt a sharp jab in my right temple. It was like someone had poked my brain with a needle—metaphorically, of course. I yelped and rubbed it, breaking our eye contact and his concentration.

His hands wavered over my arm that was resting on the table. "Are you okay?"

I shook my head to clear it. "Was that…you?"

"Was what me?"

"It was like…" Like what, exactly? Was it stupid to assume that I could feel someone trying to read my mind? Probably. It was most likely a headache…though I had a feeling that headaches didn't flare up and then disappear completely. "Like I got jabbed in the head."

He looked down at the tabletop. "I don't know, it might have been. I'm sure you have a power Bella—if you felt me trying to get in, then there's simply no denying it."

I chewed on my bottom lip. "Okay…let's say, hypothetically, I do have a power. What do we do about it?"

He shrugged, retracting the hand he had placed on my arm—when did that happen? "We work on improving it. Like any ability, powers can be exercised and trained, and then controlled. Maybe this blocking ability can do more than just that."

I felt my brows knit, and I brought my pinkie nail to my teeth in thought. "Are you saying like in _Activating Evolution_, when Dr. Suresh talks about how certain powers are so closely related they can both be used by one person?"

"In a way, yeah," he said.

"But this is all…hypothetical, right?" I asked hopefully. I wanted to leave saving the world to Claire and Peter…_Lord knows I'd only succeed in making it worse…_

He shot me a stern look. "Bella."

I stared back at him for a few minutes, before blinking and admitting defeat. "When does this 'training' of yours start?"

He looked over at the clock, and stood up. "We've gotta go pick up Nathan and take him to the airport! Dammit!"

"What?"

"I lost track of the time—and I meant to order him a ticket yesterday, but forgot," he said as he rushed out of the room. I followed into the hall, where he handed me my jacket. I scraped my hair back so it didn't look so terrible, threw it on, and we left quickly.

III

Matt Parkman kept a firm grip on Molly's hand as they waited outside the art gallery. She looked up at him worriedly, sensing that something was wrong in his jerky actions and tense face, but she didn't ask. She threw the wrapper to her sandwich in the garbage just as a door opened. The woman from earlier came out with the canvas, wrapped in sturdy brown paper. "Take good care of it and have a very nice day," she said, turning and winking at Molly, before going back into the store.

Matt kept her hand as he led her across the street to his car. They both got in—she in the back, of course—and buckled their seatbelts. He instructed her to make sure the painting didn't bump around too much, but said she should get some rest at least once during their trip. As it turned out, they were the last things on her mind.

"Are you mad?" she asked quietly.

The question took him by surprise. "Me? Mad? No."

"Good." And then she was silent, staring out the window. Hours began to tick into each other, and finally he heard her steady breathing and muddled, dream-like thoughts. He sighed and gazed out the window. They were in Illinois now—it wouldn't be very long until they made it to Washington. He checked the map, making sure he was on the right road, yawned, and settled back in his seat. Though he was tired, the panic he felt inside kept him going.

_I can't believe that's what we will come to…it's a suicide mission, if I'm being honest with myself…and how dare I drag Molly into this…_

But there was one thing that shocked him more than any other.

_Peter Petrelli. You're alive._

III

Gina flipped her blonde hair, ignoring the shouting in the back of her mind. _Stop! Let me out!_ She nearly laughed at the pleading girl, but ignored her.

She needed to get out of here. Briefly, she considered just simply going into L.A., but it seemed too close for comfort. That bastard husband of Niki's would surely track her down, and the moment she saw one of them, it'd be disaster. Niki would probably make this huge heroic escape and go back on the medication. _And what fun would that be?_

So she went to the airport, and read the huge sign with information on that day's flights. She went with the first one to catch her eye. _I've always wanted to go to Seattle._

She looked over at a nearby mirror and smirked, ignoring the cries.

_No! No! Let me out!_

III

Elle huffed angrily, looking at her father in dismay. "High school? I've never been to normal school, let alone high school! I'm not some stupid teenager!"

Bob rolled his eyes, pressing down his irritation. "I'm sorry, dear, but you'll have to deal with it."

She growled, electricity dancing on the tips of her fingers. "I don't look like a teenager anyhow! I'm a twenty-four year old woman Daddy!"

He didn't answer. He didn't need to—she would obey him, and the both of them knew it. They had a small contest in which he stared her down—before she lowered her eyes to the floor.

"Fine," she said begrudgingly. "What am I there for?"

He waved his hand in a vague gesture. "Befriend the Swan girl, and find out her secrets."

She stamped her foot and whined. "Can't we just capture her and interrogate her?"

"We don't know what connections she has," he warned. "I don't want any backfire—and the Petrelli brothers cannot know we're here. Not yet. Now—just do as you're told."

She knew the conversation was over, and he had won the argument. With a disheartened sigh, she left the room and shut the door, walking into the foyer of the large house they were currently occupying. The Haitian was nowhere to be seen, so she ambled over to the abandoned grand piano and ran her hand over the keys, before making her way up the huge staircase to the third floor. She looked out the long row of windows as she walked, dragging her hand along the wall.

This just sucked. She had to try and be _friends_ with this girl, all because she knew about some kind of vampire jazz. She was certain she could find out a different way—_any other way than this—_but Daddy insisted. So she had no other choice.

III

The newborns were especially volatile today because of the new arrivals—they didn't like their territory being taken over. But he was able to keep them controlled, with Victoria's strict orders to prevent any casualties in the back of his mind. Currently, she was out hunting, but would be back soon.

For now, the only thing he could focus on was breaking up fights and stopping runaways. That was, until a scout Victoria had sent into the forests returned to him. She stood to her full height in front of him. "I have news."

"Speak," he said disinterestedly, his eyes scanning the mass of hissing and growling.

"There are humans in the forest, near Port Angeles's outskirts. And ashes. A vampire's ashes." He looked over at her, surprised.

_Humans…near a vampire's ashes? Do they know, or are they just there by coincidence?_

She seemed to expect his question. "They've been there for a few days—well, leaving and coming back. There were two, but now there's three. And they also mentioned Isabella Swan."

He felt shocked. He thought Isabella was the only one who knew of their existence, but apparently the Cullen coven's trust was misplaced when they bestowed it upon her. "So she's told."

"I suppose." And with that, the girl flitted off obediently.

He fell extremely silent, no longer breathing in his thought. _So there're humans in the forest, looking at the remains of a vampire…_ He called back to the girl, who was by his side immediately.

"Was there evidence of a fight?" _Maybe these humans are those mongrels Victoria has mentioned before._

"None at all. Not even of wood or lighter fluid—it's as if he suddenly caught fire." He waved her off then.

So apparently the wolves were able to kill this vampire without a fight—though he didn't see how. The beasts weren't nearly as quiet or agile as his kind, which made a surprise attack hard to do. If it weren't for their extreme healing and strength, they would be child's play to them. It was simply in numbers they were dangerous.

And he had the sneaking suspicion this vampire was Laurent. So unless, somehow, the wolves managed to get him while he was vulnerable…which still, they would usually use some wood to burn, and it seemed unlikely they would simply forget to. The only other possibility, though, was that he had miraculously gotten struck by lightning.

_Highly unlikely…although quite amusing…_

He cleared his throat, no closer to the answer than before. He would simply have to ask Victoria.

III

The ride to the hospital was a quiet one, and after we had signed Nathan out and gotten him into the car, the silence only deepened. It was getting under my skin for some reason—I just felt like something should be said.

And then it was. "Nathan, this is Bella. Bella, this is Nathan, my brother."

I smiled at him, though I doubt he saw it, and reached around awkwardly to take his outstretched hand and shake it. "A pleasure to meet you."

"As it's a pleasure to meet you." His voice was tight, like Noah's had been when he met me. I bit my lip. Why did it seem that everyone _but_ Peter and Claire didn't trust me? In fact, I wasn't even sure how Peter himself felt.

After about fifteen seconds of a now extremely awkward silence, Peter spoke. "She's the one who came up with the idea of putting Claire's blood in your system."

Nathan started. And, being me, I only saw the bad side to his statement. "She knows about you? Us?"

Peter relaxed him. "She's one of us."

He seemed to accept that. "Oh."

Nothing was said, even when we got to the airport. I noticed the way Peter would constantly look over at Nathan, as if he was going to fall apart any second—the love and worry in his gaze astounded me. Even though his brother had been in on the plot to blow him up, he loved him above all that. Although, when Nathan flew in and saved New York, he had redeemed himself in my eyes.

And suddenly, on our way to the terminal, Nathan grabbed my arm and pulled me away from Peter. I panicked—what was he doing? Why were we leaving Peter behind? He set me in front of him and had to bend down just slightly to look in my eyes. "Calm down. I just wanted to thank you."

I stilled. "What? Thank me?"

He nodded. "Peter would never have taken my death or if I had been scarred from the burns well at all. He would have continually beat himself up over it. And you saved the both of us from that—I owe you quite a bit. Thank you."

I felt strangely flattered—by his serious air and business-like appearance, I got the impression Nathan wasn't the one to say thank you often. I smiled at him. "It was no problem. You should thank Claire, actually; it was her blood, after all."

He nodded, letting go of my arms. "I will. And, by the way, if you ever need a favor, I'm sure you can call me." He slipped me his number quickly, and then we made our way to Peter—who was walking back the way we came, looking extremely worried and slightly panicked. And yet he relaxed when he spotted us.

"Bella! Nathan!" He came up to us quickly. "What happened? Where'd you go?"

Nathan lied smoothly, and I couldn't help but feel just slightly affronted—was he not able to admit thanking me? "I asked Bella to take me to get something to drink because I figured she'd know where to go better than you."

Peter's worry faded. "Thanks for letting me know," he said drily. Then we went on our way, seeing Nathan off on his baggage-less flight. We waited until the plane was out of view before making our way back to Peter's house. Of course, he asked if I wanted to go home, but I simply had nothing to do. So, soon we arrived.

Only for him to torture me.

III

I rubbed my throbbing temples; my head feeling like it was going to explode. Peter had been beating at my, what he referred to as "natural defenses", trying to see if he could find a way in. So far he hadn't, and was in probably as much pain as I was—if his grimace was any indication. I wasn't sure _why_ we continued this, even though it put us in pain, but his response was simple when I asked.

"Because, Bella, we wanna find out how strong your shield is," he said reasonably.

My irritation welled. "Obviously strong enough for you not to read my mind. Isn't that enough?" I snapped.

He sighed, before agreeing. "Alright. I'll give you that."

"But we're still not done, are we?"

He shook his head. "Suresh has this idea that shields can be bended, extended, moved, all that good stuff. Why not try it out?"

I gazed at him for a moment, trying to give him my best why-me look, but admitted defeat. "Fine. What next, Mr. Tutor?"

He smiled, but otherwise seemed to ignore the comment. "What do you wanna do?" I thought about it. The easiest option seemed to be extending my shield beyond myself—in the book it was referred to as stretching it. After all, it sounded like a better plan to practice protecting others rather than un-shielding myself and protecting no one. And yet there was nobody else here to test this on, as it was Sunday, and Claire wouldn't be back until tomorrow night.

So it was decided. "I'll try and…I don't know, push my shield away from myself or something."

He smiled and playfully ruffled my hair. "That's the spirit!"

I glared at him, before sighing and closing my eyes. I nodded that I was ready, and soon felt the pressure in my head. Peter had previously described my shield as a "steel vault" all around my mind, so I tried to find it. I visualized my mind being a wide open room, and watched myself walk all the way to the farthest edge where a tall, bolted, metallic wall stretched to the dark sky.

Was my mind really this empty?

I focused on the task at hand, hoping my crappy visual would have the desired effect. With my little mind-self, I pushed against the wall. It didn't budge. I watched as she exerted herself, red in the face and sweaty…

I shook myself out of it. Okay, this wasn't the way to go—and the pressure Peter created kept building, only further antagonizing the massive headache I was sporting. I opened my eyes to find Peter's on me—they locked. I tried to do what he was doing—stare into him, but I doubted I got the whole intensity thing right.

I cursed my mind for wandering and snapped it back into place. I tried to feel for something—some kind of wall or barrier or _something_, but was coming up empty.

"Stop, stop," I said finally. "I need to rest. You're killing me here." The look on Peter's face was one of disappointment, and I could only guess he thought I was quitting. But no, not now—now I had put in a real effort to find this wall, and I'd be damned if I didn't follow through. I was too stubborn for that—I simply couldn't give up or my failure would eat at me.

I took a deep breath. "Alright. Go." He looked fairly surprised, but pleased as he nodded.

And let the torture begin.


	10. Bears

_AN: Hello all! I am back! Traveled all the way up to Chicago for the Fest for Beatles Fans and loved it like always! I'm back now—with a chapter! Yay!_

_Hey, by the way, I don't own this. As much as I'd like to, I don't. I know, it's sad. But if I did, this wouldn't be just a fanfiction—it'd be a mix of BD and the finale of Heroes! So, being that it is neither, you can assume. Poor me. :'(_

_Also, I'd like to announce that our Peter is, in fact, a living breathing man. So that was just his manstincts acting up—not romance. That's just a bit off, I'm afraid to say. But soon enough, my pretties._

_And MORE characters. Trust, though, that I'm not simply adding them at random for my own amusement. It will all come to its strange end, I promise. But, by the way, there are still more to add. I know. Frustrating. GAR! But I'm having fun, and I hope you can say the same._

_So yah. That's it. Enjoy, darlings!_

_Immolation Chapter 9: Bears_

"_First impressions can be deceiving…or not…"_

Matt rolled over and yawned, glancing at the queen bed across from him where a small, barely moving bump under the covers indicated that Molly was still asleep. He sighed and flopped onto his other side, burying his cheek into the comfy pillow and wishing there was a way he could simply forget about everything. Forget his power and the complications it brought, his cheating ex and unborn child, the new job he was

practically throwing away by not attending in favor of everything he wanted to forget.

Deciding he didn't want to confuse himself further, he pushed himself off the bed and looked over—his eyes locked onto the painting on the table. He had ripped off the paper in an attempt to study it—see if he knew that face, that girl. He had memorized each and every inch at this point, but was no closer to any answers. All he knew was that things in Kirby Plaza hadn't gone as planned—or maybe something else went wrong. Either way, he had to get to Forks and pray that Peter was already there, mending the situation somehow. Because damn it all but he was afraid of everything. He didn't want to get involved and thrust his life willingly into the gutter. And not only his, but Molly was here with him.

And he had sworn to protect her at all costs. Yet here he was, carrying the both of them on a silver platter toward the apocalypse. _Or close enough, at least. Damn. _But that need to do right—that want to do good and help people that had brought him into the force in the first place—spurred him onward. That voice in the back of his mind was the push he needed to convince himself that he wasn't signing his death certificate—that he was, in fact, ripping it up and throwing it away. After all, the picture before him depicted some of the most gruesome slaughtering he'd ever seen…and a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach made him sure that his death would be the same, if not worse.

He rolled his eyes. _That and the fact that there I am, dead as hell, cartoonified. How is it not less scary?_ Probably because it had the potential to be true. And though he planned to risk his life for good, that didn't mean he _wanted_ to die.

His feet touched the floor and he buried his face in his hands. He was just so tired. He didn't even know what to say or think. He had to help but _damn_, couldn't fate just not be so twisted? Couldn't he remain normal and not have to jump off metaphorical bridges just to survive?

_Nope._

He sighed and rubbed his eyes, looking over at Molly when she shifted, but remained asleep. She was his main worry—she was like a daughter to him. He needed to find a way to make sure the fate he saw on that canvas wasn't hers. She needed to remain safe, no matter the cost. He wouldn't let her near anything harmful. _So why am I dragging her to the lion's den again?_

He leaned back onto the bed, knowing he wouldn't be able to sleep, even though it was five in the morning and he'd probably fallen asleep around two. It was just his mind ate away at him constantly. Was he doing the right thing by going to Forks? What would he do when he got there? Was Peter even there yet? If he was, what should he say?

And suddenly, he decided that he'd get back to sleep, just to avoid the questions.

III

"Interesting…" A curl of red hair ghosted over her face, but she paid it no mind. Her thoughts buzzed at an extremely fast rate as she began to strategize. _These humans Riley spoke of…they're staying at the Cullen mansion? Without said vermin here? And not only that, but why are they so interested in Laurent's remains?_

She sniffed the air again, as if to check. But she knew that scent—the man had traveled with her and James for quite a time. There was simply no mistaking it. _Unless he had a twin who was a random passing vampire…in Forks, Washington, no less? Doubtful._

But yes, it was so. The air was permeated with rain, soil, Laurent, and human blood long dried. She turned at that thought, following the weak trail to a crater fifty feet or so away. _Human blood, everywhere. I wonder…?_

Had Laurent possibly been hunting, so engrossed that the wolves had gotten to him without his noticing? And yet if she knew anything about Laurent, it was that he was a precise hunter. He wouldn't have spilt so much blood, and never would have allowed the wolves to find him—much less plan a sneak attack. So what _had_ gone on here?

She pushed it away. No use. Laurent had failed and died, so no need to worry about him. It was the humans—they were nothing like those mutts that wandered the forest. They were pale and soft and small with nearly nonexistent human senses. So how did they know about vampires? Or were they just curious of the scene and just _happened_ to be staying at the coven's abandoned home. Not to mention that they knew Isabella, which made her strangely uneasy. Had the girl told?

She pondered for a moment, but ultimately came up blank. Though she vowed to not only avenge her mate, but figure out this mystery. James would be thrilled.

III

I walked into the school building as Angela spotted me, running across the lot to catch up. She was panting slightly as she wrapped her hand around my shoulder. "Bella? Where's Claire?" I looked over and realized people would probably wonder about her absence—and worry about the state I was in that week after…

"Gone for today," I said cryptically. I didn't want to spread around a lie Claire herself would later contradict, and with the situation being what it was, I wasn't going to risk the truth either.

"Oh," she sighed. "Cool. Hey, by the way, did you know that there's another new student?"

I cocked my head to the side. "Another? No, is there a reason I should know?"

She shrugged lightly, falling into step next to me as I made my way to my locker. "Well, new students are kind of uncommon and I thought maybe she was with Claire and her uncle." I kneeled onto the ground to dig through my neat little stack of books.

"No, neither Peter or Claire have mentioned anyone coming," I murmured, shutting the door and walking to our first class with her.

She shrugged again. "I'm just curious because she's been asking about you."

I hesitated, fiery hair and pale skin flashing through my mind. _Mates are devoted to each other…and vampires are strong believers in vengeance._ "What did she look like, exactly?"

Angela shot me a strange look, questioning why I cared, but otherwise didn't ask. "Blonde, kinda tall, slightly um…revealing." I breathed a sigh of relief.

"Oh. I wonder why she's asking about me," I muttered quietly, but my thoughts snapped to the girls I grew up with in Phoenix. They weren't close to me at all—in fact, I was more of a tutor than anything—but Angela had pretty much described one of them. Had someone come after me? And if they had, for what?

I shook it away. Why bother wondering? If she was so worried about finding me, she'd do so, and that would be when I got my answers. And until then I'd continue with school normally.

Although, that plan crashed and burned as the now crowded halls watched with laughter as I ran right into someone. I was in for a shock though—literally. It felt like that time I had accidently stepped on bare wires—a hot sensation traveled through my body, stinging and burning every inch of my insides. I fell back and stayed there for a moment.

"Hey, you little runt, watch where you walk, will ya?" I hurriedly got up, forcing my numb limbs to move, and began to gather my things while simultaneously blushing.

"I—I'm so, so sorry," I whispered quietly, forcing my eyes to meet hers, but she wasn't looking at me. Her blonde hair whipped around as she angrily shoved her papers and books into a heap.

"God, walk much, retard?" she grumbled more to herself than anything, but I still felt offended.

"Yeah, just not well," I snapped sarcastically.

"Practice then, how about? So, you know, you don't disgrace the human race as we know it." She looked up at me in a huff, continuing to push her things together. I, although affronted by her attitude, reached down to help her. Though she just swatted my hands away. "I got it."

She finished as I rose and brushed off my pants, picking up my various school-related items and waiting for her to get up as well. When she did, she pushed her hair out of her face and got a good look at me. The anger previously set in her features seemed to drain away.

"Isabella Swan?"

I felt my brow furrow, but then remembered that Angela had mentioned that new girl asking for me. And this one fit the bill. "Yes. Can I ask who you are?"

There was a small, almost palpable hesitation in which waves of concentration seemed to roll off of her. Though her face was carefully composed, I could tell she was mulling over something in her mind, as if she didn't want to tell me. "Elle Bishop."

I stuck out my hand to shake hers, deeming it the most appropriate response. _Did Nathan rub off on me or something? A handshake?_ "Nice to meet you." She took my hand warily and eyed me with suspicion, her eyes narrowed, and there was something strange about her. Besides the fact that she looked well over eighteen, those skimpy clothes and ridiculous heels aside.

"Yeah, whatever," she responded coolly, pulling her hand from mine.

I didn't know what else to do but say what I was thinking. "So I hear you've been asking about me…is there a reason why?"

She looked at her nails and shrugged nonchalantly, as if I was simply insignificant—even though so far, _she_ was the one seeking _me_ out, and not vice versa. "My dad met your dad and your dad said you could show me around town." I felt a twinge of frustration at that statement—simply because, though I didn't like to jump to conclusions, this girl seemed amazingly rude, and the prospect of having to do her a favor made bowing down to Lauren seem like heaven.

And yet. "Oh, okay. Whenever you want to."

"Nah, not really. But…" She paused again, looking at the floor. But it was the kind of pause in which you could tell she wasn't sure how to say what she wanted—that or she didn't want to say it at all. "…I could, uh, use a friend. And your dad said you're nice."

I bit my lip. A friend? To her? At this point, it didn't sound that attractive—but still, I had to admit first impressions weren't something I could trust completely. That and I _had_ knocked her down and spilled all her stuff, so she did have a right to be annoyed. Maybe now that she realized I wasn't so bad she would be nicer. Though her face was still a mask of indifference and boredom, as if this conversation was put on.

But I'd had experience with new kids pretending not to care so they could look better—maybe she was just scared I'd say no. Which, I wouldn't, even if she grew little red horns right now. I had to give the girl a chance. "Okay. I'll show you to class, I guess."

"Awesome." She smiled and handed me a slip of paper, showing me that she was heading in the wrong direction—but that she needed to turn around and go to the very same English room as I was traveling to right now.

"Um, we've got the same schedule," I said quietly, giving it a once-over. Every class matched. "Follow me."

"That's so, uh, cool. Can I sit by you?"

I nodded. "Sure. Better you than Mike."

"Mike?"

I rolled my eyes. "A disciple of sorts."

She snorted. "Christ." I laughed at that.

"So…" she began, but it seemed she was lost. "Who do you like?"

I furrowed my brow. "Who do I like?"

She nodded. "Yeah. You know, gossipy teenage crap. Crushes. All that bull—" She abruptly stopped.

"Uh," I began, but I didn't have an answer. My mind ran through all the faces of males I knew who weren't family, and none seemed to stick out above any other—besides one. I flinched and pushed that face from my mind with such force I felt slightly out of breath, but I hid it. "No one like that."

"Huh." I could tell she wasn't done, so I walked silently down the halls, the chatter of nearby students filling the gap in our conversation. "That's weird."

"Yeah, I'm pretty good for that," I muttered, before promptly stumbling and barely catching myself. Stunted silence descended, but she didn't seem to notice how awkward it was.

"What do friends normally talk about?" The question caught me off guard.

"Um…" Again, I didn't know what to say. I never was one to have normal human friends, so their topics of conversation were as foreign to me as they apparently were to her. "Different things. They usually get to know each other or something."

"Okay." We rounded the corner. "Well. Tell me about yourself or something."

"Uh," I bit my lip again in thought. "I'm from Phoenix, love to read, am horribly clumsy—"

She rolled her eyes and cut me off. "Yeah, whatever. Thanks for sharing."

I bit back another snappy remark. Instead, I talked tightly toward my sneakers. "You asked."

"I didn't think you were so boring." And neither of us said a word as we walked in, and I was filled with a genuine, only slightly spiteful glee as Lauren Mallory scooted over, leaving the only empty seat next to herself. Elle wouldn't be near me, which was fine. I even liked the fact that Lauren didn't seem able to stop talking—and normally I could safely say I wasn't a mean person, but when she was constantly swinging back and forth between an awkward acquaintance and a shrewd cheerleader, well, sorry. I couldn't say I liked her much.

I sighed and leaned my cheek onto my hand, letting it run off my back like water. So there was a rude new-girl about who didn't seem fond of me. What harm could it do?

III

Mohinder wandered through the grasses, just on the outskirts of a small village. He couldn't remember where at in Africa he was because it didn't matter—he was too focused on the mission. He would, in fact, have to call Noah soon, and tell him there was no word from the Company as of yet. Their alliance was strange, and yet needed.

The Company was to be brought down.

He sighed and stuffed his hands in his pockets, continuing to simply meander. There was nothing for him to do in the few hours time until he would take the jeep back toward the airport and leave. Next was a speech in Oklahoma, and then on to Seattle. He didn't have time to waste—word needed to be spread, and the Company needed to be genuinely worried.

He heard some kind of wet noise, and his curiosity spiked as he made his way out to an isolated tree with a large boulder next to it. There was a slight shifting in the grass—and as he made his way around the boulder, he saw a man sitting on the ground, painting the boulder furiously. He swiveled and eyed the nearly finished painting with first mild wonder—and then blatant shock and disbelief.

_I…I…I can't believe this! Impossible! He's supposed to be _dead_!_

And yet there he was. Both of them, actually—two men he had thought died that fateful night at Kirby Plaza not so long ago, and a young woman he didn't recognize. And…he examined the sign next to them, reading _'Forks, Washington welcomes you!'_

The road they stood on was desolate, rain falling as wind whipped at their clothes and hair. Peter's face was torn in what looked like pain and fury—Sylar's full of hate and triumph. The young woman's face was that of stone, her eyes the only thing to show emotion—misery. She stood mere feet behind Sylar, watching the soon to be battle with what, at first glance, seemed indifference. And yet in her pained eyes, he could see worry of some sort. And, in her hands, she clutched a large manila file.

The painting was vibrant and detailed and he wasn't sure what to think. He knew this man had to have that same ability, precognitive painting, by the look of his eyes and precision of his movements. Not to mention the fact that he was in some sort of trance and didn't seem to notice Mohinder at all.

He stared at the painting for three whole minutes when, with a slight gasp, the man came out of his trance. He looked around himself and spotted Mohinder immediately—his eyes softened and he stood, walking over and placing a warm hand on his shoulder. "Your plane will arrive soon. Go."

Had it been hours? He hadn't thought so—he had counted three minutes. And yet his watch confirmed that he had stood that long—and he felt slight cramps in his legs, which only further confirmed it. Without thinking or wondering how the man knew he was to catch a plane and at what time—_hell, why bother?_—he nodded and took off, the painting all he could see in his mind's eye.

Change of plan.

III

D.L. sighed and looked over at his son, fast asleep on the bumpy bus ride. He had had a bad feeling when he saw Niki stop taking her medications—and now it was confirmed. He had followed her to her first day of work only to find that she didn't plan on going at all—well, _Niki_ did. But Jessica, on the other hand, did not.

He brushed Micah's sweaty hair from his face, glancing up to see that they weren't close to Seattle at all and wouldn't be for hours. He settled back in his seat and simply looked out the front window as the rickety old beast barely crawled down the highway, silently cursing Jessica for ever complicating their lives at all.

But she did, and now he was stuck, forcing Micah on a surprise trip after his mother, stopping their lives once again for this damned abomination inside her. _If there's ever a way to get rid of Jessica for good…I swear…_

He sighed again, forlornly. He loved his wife but…damn.

III

I closed and locked the door behind Claire and I. She had surprised me by jumping from behind the bushes after school was out—I had expected her to be gone until later that night, but she had explained that her father got a phone call of some sort that was quite urgent and she had to leave. And though I felt terrible because her time with her family had been cut short, I was barely able to keep my glee at her arrival under wraps, and I knew she knew.

But that didn't matter. She was here now and didn't seem saddened at all, which was good. "Dad!" I called to the seemingly empty household. "You here?"

I heard his voice echo something faintly, and then noticed the slight murmur of voices. I looked around the corner and spotted three people—one being my father and the other two being a certain Billy and Jacob Black. Although, Jacob was nearly unrecognizable since the last time I had seen him. He was at least a foot taller, exceptionally broader, and extremely muscled—which was obvious, being that he had decided to disregard the pouring rain outside and go shirtless.

"Hello," I said quietly, and they all turned to look at Claire and I.

"Hey, B," Billy said easily, his dark eyes dancing with humor in the sunlight. Jacob nodded.

"I uh," I paused before deciding to go straight for the point. "What do you guys want for dinner?"

They each muttered something different, so I decided to just ignore the question and figure it out when I got to the refrigerator. I stepped aside then, allowing Claire complete entry into the room. "By the way, I've never gotten to introduce Claire. Billy, Jake, this is well, Claire." I gestured to her, and she gave a small wave. "Dad, this is the girl I hang out with all the time."

He nodded. "Hey Claire, nice to finally meet you." He directed a slight accusing stare my way, but there was no real malice in it. A small silence descended upon us in which everyone examined everyone, before I finally clapped my hands together.

"Well, Claire and I are off to cook." With that, we made our way to the kitchen.

"Who're Billy and Jake?" she asked curiously. I smirked, though she may not have seen it as I dug in the refrigerator.

"Why?" I asked innocently, and I heard her clothes rustle with a shrug.

"Just wondering."

"Don't lie." I turned, my arms full of random vegetables for a half-recipe forming in my mind. I clicked the door shut with my toe. "I saw the look you gave Jake. Or, his chest, rather."

She crossed her arms and sat on a nearby chair with a small, indignant huff. "Well, I figured he was kinda _inviting_ you to look, considering he didn't bother to cover it up."

I rolled my eyes and laughed, nudging her arm playfully. "Don't worry about it. And they're old family friends."

She nodded. "Cool. It's nice to meet other people around here."

I acted upstruck by that. "Getting tired of boring old me, are you?"

She chuckled and nudged me back. "As if. I love you like the boring older sister I always dreamt of having." I stuck my tongue out at her, grabbing a large, sharp knife. I held it up in the air threateningly.

"Don't make me stab you again."

She rolled her eyes and scoffed. "Please. You were too chicken to do it the first time." I reluctantly agreed, holding the knife right and beginning to chop up the carrots. She watched for a moment before seeming to get bored.

"Want me to do anything?" I shrugged.

"If you want you can start to boil the water. Oh, and don't burn it." I winked at her and she, in turn, stuck out her tongue my way. Then we began to work in relative silence. Soon we had the water boiling, the meat thawing, and the vegetables chopped. I greased the pan quickly before heading out into the living room again. I was about to say something when a cell phone rang—Jacob answered it and nearly mowed the two of us down to get out the door.

I looked to the remaining men. "Food's on its way. It'll be ready in maybe a half hour. Sound good?"

Billy nodded. "Yeah Bells," Charlie said, his eye still on the game. "Great." He tore his gaze away to look over at Claire with a kind smile. "So, Claire, you're the girl Bella's living with."

She looked confused, pointing to herself. "Me? Bella isn't living with me."

He laughed, "Close enough. I swear she's always gone. That's alright though—glad she's happy again." A dark expression was cast over his face, and I recalled that week of numb hell I had spent. Well, recalled what I could of it.

She agreed quietly, and Jacob chose that moment to storm in. "Gotta go Dad. Sam called. Charlie, will ya take him home?" He fidgeted impatiently as he awaited Charlie's answer.

"Sure, course."

And he flew out without a word. Claire looked surprised, before leaning against the doorframe. "What's got him so worked up?"

Billy's happy smile was gone, replaced with a somber stare. He didn't seem as interested anymore. "He and…some of his friends are going on a prolonged hiking trip," he said carefully.

"Which reminds me," Charlie began. "I wanted to tell you two to be safe out there, if you ever have to go in those forests. Animal attacks are on the rise."

"Animal attacks?" Claire seemed astounded at such a thing.

I smirked grimly. "You're not in Odessa anymore."

Charlie nodded in agreement. "Twelve or so in a week. Got officers all over—there's been sightings of some giant, crazy bears. Dunno how true it is, though." By now he was more angled toward Billy, ready to gossip, though Billy was obviously not in the mood. "Gettin' really scared for the hikers."

Claire shook her head. "Who would hike in this cold weather?"

"There's dedicated people out there," Charlie muttered.

I sighed. "Well, after this lovely bit of conversation, I've gotta go check on the casserole." Knowing that Claire wouldn't want to be stuck in the whirlwind of testosterone—considering the cabin-like feel of my living room coupled with the droning ballgame, I added, "Coming Claire?"

She nodded and followed me into the kitchen. I dropped the various noodles I had gathered into the now boiling water, grabbing the meat out of the microwave to cook. She perched herself up on an unoccupied bit of counter, swinging her legs. "Twelve animal attacks in one week. That's nuts."

I nodded. "Yeah, even for Forks that's pretty uncommon." But my mind began to drift to certain other people, and the fact that when they were around, it wasn't simple animal attacks at all. _Could it be a…?_ I shook the very thought away, refusing to think it. Charlie had mentioned sightings of giant bears—it had to be them.

"Bella!" Claire's hand snapped in front of my face. I jumped and looked over to her.

"What?"

"You zoned for a second there. Everything alright?"

I nodded. "Fine, fine, I'm fine." Maybe I spoke just a bit too quickly, but it didn't seem that she noticed.

Dinner, after that, went normally. The chatter was simply of mine and Claire's nonexistent plans and Charlie and Billy's upcoming fishing trip. We finished up and Claire and I washed the dishes, before we drove back over to her house. We watched a movie before turning in early.

Though, thoughts of the possibilities that those attacks weren't animals at all plagued me. It was just a small notion, being that when there were other things going on, animals were always to blame. I only hoped that it was really just some huge pack of bears and not what I didn't want to think about. Though I got a bad feeling in my gut.

I sighed and got up, looking over to find Claire fast asleep. I didn't want to wake her because she no doubt had jet-lag, but it was still early yet and my thoughts were things I didn't want to be left alone with right now. So I rolled out of bed and quietly padded out of the room, fixing the thin tank-top and boy-shorts that had ridden up in all my tossing and turning.

And, as I realized it was _only_ enough fabric to cover what I needed covered, I cursed myself for forgetting to bring something to sleep in. I grabbed a random book from the shelf and turned on a small lamp, sitting back in the chair.

I was getting into the story as the door opened, and Peter appeared in the arch. I jumped up with a blush, immediately feeling out of place—Claire was asleep and I was up, just reading their books. How stupid!

His eyes went from my feet to my face in one smooth movement. I felt a blush rise to my cheeks at the look in them—he was so annoyed by my presence by now, there was no doubting it. "I'm so sorry, Peter—I just wasn't able to sleep and Claire went to bed early and—" I stuttered stupidly.

He shook his head. "Don't," clearing his throat, "uh, don't worry about it. I just didn't expect you to be here, is all." He looked away toward the chair I was at, noticing the book. I watched a small smirk slide onto his face. "Figures you'd be reading."

I smiled back. "Thanks. And yep, it's what I tend to do."

"Well," he said after a pause. "While that's awesome, I'm gonna get to bed _before_ I pass out." I laughed.

"That would be preferable." And with that, he walked away. The house was silent besides the ticking of their clock, and I flushed red when I heard his clothes rustling. _Don't just stand there you idiot—move or something! You must look like the creepiest houseguest alive!_

I sighed and looked at the clock. Now, sitting out here while both of them slept didn't sound all too appealing for some reason, and I did need to get to bed eventually. So I put the book back in its spot and headed off down the hall, crawling in next to Claire and shutting my eyes—only to see hungry black ones staring back at me.

I was in for a long, restless night.

_AN: So, whatcha think? By the way, I'm so happy and love all of you! My hits are ASTOUNDING! Ahem, also, directed to the general population (but I must credit sally94, as she brought it up. You're a favorite of mine Sally, just don't tell the others! ;) I promise I will not die until AFTER I finish the story. Then I could care less. :P_

_So yes, that's all I needed to babble about. Carry on. :D_


	11. Elle

_AN: So hello everyone! I'd like to tell you that I immensely enjoyed writing this chapter—especially because it enjoyed hilarious Peter Petrelli tidbits, which I love. Ah, that naïve, clueless man. *shakes head* So yes, not a whole heck of a lot of development, but it is coming in the next few chapters, I would like to assure you. So, without further adieu, the chapter! :D_

_Immolation Chapter 10: Elle_

"_Sometimes, you just have to find the good in the bad…and sometimes, there is no good in the bad…"_

Claire parked her car and sighed, grabbing her book bag and looking at me warily. "Was the homework load…bad?"

I shook my head, slinging my bag over my shoulder. "No."

She let out a sigh of relief. "Oh, good."

And before anything else could be said, Elle from the day before was standing before us, eyebrows raised and lips curved into a smirk. "Bella and company. Hello."

I smiled back tightly—her grin unnerved me, for some reason. "Elle. This is Claire."

"Claire Bennet, right?" she asked sweetly. I started—she knew Claire, too?

Claire seemed to have the same thoughts, as her eyes narrowed as she spoke. "Yeah, that's me."

Elle seemed to sense our questions, responding with a roll of her eyes. "Some Lauren bitch told me. Anyway, how are you two?"

I nodded and began to walk, Claire on my right and Elle a few feet to my left. "Claire and I are fine. How about you, Elle?"

She shrugged. "Alright. I'm alive, right?"

I smiled, "You've definitely got a point."

We chatted just a bit as we made our way into the building. Elle left to go to her locker while Claire followed me to mine. "I dunno Bella," she said eventually. "She's…off."

I shut my locker softly. "Off how?"

She shook her head, walking down the hall toward the lower grade section of the school. "I'm not sure how to describe it. I just get a bad feeling."

I smiled again, "I wouldn't worry about it. She's kinda rude, but in an I-don't-mean-it-I'm-always-this-way manner."

She nodded slowly. "If you say so. I'll see you later." She gave me a pointed glance and I turned to see Elle walking toward me. She had that same slight smirk on her face and she walked with such grace that it should be illegal—for a human. We exchanged hellos and walked silently to our next class.

Each period was slow and uneventful, but they did finally pass. Lunch was nothing but awkward, as our table was filled with Elle, Mike, Claire, Lauren, and I. What a mix. I was worried it was so unnatural we were going to spontaneously combust or something—but we made it through semi-unscathed…for a while. I tripped and got a nice gash in my side from the chair, had to go to the nurse to change my bloody shirt, only to find out I also sprained my ankle and would need to see the doctor immediately. It took a lot of begging on my part to stay through the school day, not to mention multiple promises to rush to the hospital afterward.

The rest of school was torture, as I had to simultaneously lean on Claire or Elle and the halls simply to walk, and it only seemed to get worse as my ankle swelled. Eventually, I had to use both Claire and Elle as crutches as we made our way into the building.

And yet, finally, here we were. I was sitting on an uncomfortable paper-bed thing that they gave you as the doctor dawdled his way down, Claire seated next to me. We simply leaned on each other and looked at the floor as Elle left to go get a soda. She turned to me. "There's no _way_ she's any younger than twenty-one!"

I shrugged disinterestedly. I was actually worried about the moment my father would show up scared to death only to find I was perfectly normal and healthy. "I guess."

"You okay Bella?"

If I was being honest, it was an iffy matter. I was focusing on the not so bright topic of my father's reaction to the phone call he was bound to get from the hospital only to distract myself from my uneasiness on other things. Like Claire, I got the weirdest feeling from Elle—as if she was hiding something. And while that was all fine and dandy, I was also still mulling around the whole idea of our local animal attacks being a little more than just that.

Not to mention the thoughts in the back of my mind. _What if they are? What if there's a vampire roaming around?_ I didn't know what to say. There simply weren't any vampires around to protect me this time, and while being with them was the danger in the first place, that fact still disconcerted me. I could only hope it was the friendly nomadic type that came and went rather quickly, and nothing to genuinely worry about. But what if I was wrong? What if it was something more?

Speaking of which, what would something more be, anyway? I had mulled over James's coven being angry and vengeance-seeking, but surely they'd see that the ones who killed him were gone and be on their merry way. And on vampire terms, a week was enough time to sniff around.

And what about the bears Charlie had mentioned? He said there was talk about two of them, as big as our house, roaming the outdoors freely. And while it was plausible that something that big could kill twelve or more in only a week, it was rather absurd to think that something that big actually existed in the first place. So what _was_ going on?

My head hurt, and I rubbed it just in time for the doctor to magically appear. "Something wrong with your head, Bella?" I still wasn't used to the small-town everyone-knows-your-name thing going on.

"No, my ankle and side, sir," I sighed. He instructed Claire to sit on a metal chair in the corner and made me lift my shirt, making my flush down my neck—even though it was apparent that he wasn't the slightest interested in looking at anything but the gash, that didn't mean he—and everyone else here—couldn't see me now bared aside from a bra. And suddenly, Mike Newton himself walked in with all his wonderful timing.

He took one look at me and walked right back out.

I heard Claire laughing and vowed to smack her upside the head first chance I got, but the thought left my mind as a stinging, throbbing pain burned up my ankle and shot through my calf. I yelped and jumped away from him.

"I'm sorry Bella, but I need to see just how bad it is. In fact, we may have to cut your shoe off."

I raised my eyebrows in surprise. "What?"

He shook his head. "Your ankle has swelled quite a bit because you decided to wait so long to come here." He directed a mellow accusatory stare my way for a moment before sighing that he'd be back with some spare scissors. As he left, the doors nearest to us opened, and suddenly I remembered that we were in the ER.

A group of paramedics walked in, and I looked up at the clock, found it seven o'clock—_had we been here _that_ long?_—and figured they were going to go eat or something. And in the middle, talking with the rest, was a face I definitely recognized.

As Charlie pointed out, I practically lived with them.

I stared in shock, unable to cover myself as his eyes drifted over my way—it just figured someone I knew and had to speak to on a regular basis would see me like this!

III

Elle impatiently sighed and tapped her foot on the ugly linoleum flooring. The little coil moved at the speed of dust as the cupcake crackled in its plastic confinements. _Dammit! Why does it take a million decades and a year?_

It took another minute and a half for it to drop, but she smiled triumphantly and ripped into the treat as she walked away when it did. She finished it quickly and took a swig of her soda as she made her way back to where Bella was sitting.

Ah, Bella. The clumsy imbecile who didn't know what was gonna hit her. She had her for sure—the only thing she worried about was the girl falling off a building before she could get what she needed out of her. But Daddy would just _have_ to be proud now—she had her roped in two days flat!

She smirked and pushed open the doorway. But when her eyes landed on the scene before her, she faltered in her step. Deciding it best, she ducked behind a curtain and peeked around to watch _this_ little tidbit unfold.

Bella was still sitting where she had left her, only this time she was shirtless. Claire—who she kindly referred to as ditz, among other degrading nicknames—had relocated to a metal chair in the corner and seemed to be engrossed in a magazine. And a man she wasn't sure she knew was bent over in front of Isabella, and _damn that's one fine ass._

She cackled only slightly to herself, but shut up as she realized _this_ fish was taken. His hands gently ran up her sides, and Isabella blushed to from her face to her neck, chest, arms…_she could earn a million dollars in a blushing contest…she's half tomato or something…_ She blinked slowly and smiled nervously, shaking her head and saying something Elle could barely make out as, "No, only my side."

He responded and turned his head to see said area—and it hit her like a lightning bolt. _Peter Petrelli!_

_Oh shit! They're involved! Daddy's gonna burst a vessel!_

She watched in awe, desperately wishing she had popcorn or something. Her heart fluttered at the thought of the praise she was sure to get with _this _one. And there was simply no _way_ she'd fuck it up!

His hands lightly touched the area and the girl brought her own to his shoulders, wincing and squeezing. She shook her head and said something to him, and he straightened and nodded, apparently saying something back, as they both laughed. Isabella's blush lightened a shade the moment his hands left her bare skin.

_Damn…I can only imagine the front…lucky broad…_

His paramedic's uniform was dirty and grungy from a day on the field, and he stripped it off to bend and look at the sprain. _Ooh, a man in uniform,_ she mocked internally, but she had to admit she liked what she saw. And Isabella was a lucky gal—even though she'd probably be killed or tested or locked up soon.

And then, as he gently pried at her shoe, Elle decided the hot parts were over and it was time she stole him away.

III

Peter's touch was a warm, welcome one, even though odd. He was gentle in everything he did, but I felt like I was melting with the heat of my blush—it was too embarrassing. The moment he saw Claire, he knew I was nearby. The moment he saw me, shirtless with a huge gash, he rushed over, leaving his buddies behind. He had frantically asked what happened, and only earned a nervous, "I fell," from me. Claire averted her eyes and my blush intensified to a full-body one as he ran his hands up and down my sides.

And the sensation was…strange, to say the least. They roamed from the hem of my jeans to under my bra, and created something akin to a tickle, but not the kind I wanted to laugh at. Something different. And every time he passed the cut it would sting and burn and I'd wince.

Of course, the look on his face was one of concentration and worry. "Could you have cracked a rib? Is there internal bleeding? Does it hurt anywhere else?" He paused the barrage of questions for me to answer.

I blinked dazedly, that strange warm sensation so foreign and slightly unwelcome as he continued to gently feel for injuries muddling my mind slightly. _Man his hands are warm. Or hell, maybe that's the blush…_ I shook my head slowly, shooting him an odd smile and hoping he'd get the hint. _Please stop before I'm the first to literally die of embarrassment…in a hospital no less…_ "No, only my side."

He let out a sigh. "That's good. Lemme take a look." And before I could protest he was bent over, leaning slightly, his breath on my stomach as he inspected it. I bit my lip and winced, reaching out to his shoulders for something to squeeze as he touched it and pain shot up my side. "They cleaned it, right?"

I shook my head. "Not yet."

He frowned at that, but, to my relief, he straightened and moved away. I looked up at him. "You know, you really don't have to do this."

He smiled slightly and nodded. "It's nice to work with someone who I know isn't about to die." I laughed. _I might if you keep it up. Is it possible to die from embarrassment? I'm beginning to wonder._ He moved down to my ankle and left me just wishing he'd take his hands off me or the doctor would come or—

My prayers were answered. "Bella!" I looked over to see Elle and only had enough time to thank God before he turned on me.

"So, who's the hot date?"

I watched my already unhealthy blush fade to a freakish purple color. Peter's jaw dropped and his head spun around, and I saw Claire's face border on humor and worry as she jumped up and over to us. I looked at Elle and willed all of this to be a dream.

Silently I cursed her, but swallowed and answered in a nearly incomprehensible stutter that was an utter disgrace to the English language. "I—t—uh, he's—no, you've—we…we're not, uh, no, this is—Peter, Claire's…uncle, Peter, not, no, uh, n—not—we're not…"

She laughed but didn't respond, wandering around to Peter's side. She looked him up and down, genuinely checking him out, and ran her hand up his arm. "Got good choice," she nearly purred, smirking up at him, and I resisted the urge to look away for whatever reason.

"Uh," Claire cut in, sensing that neither Peter or I knew what to say. I just wanted to fall straight into the floor and never come out. "Yeah. Doctor's coming," she pointed behind them, and they both turned. He doctor had indeed arrived, and I silently scolded him for his lateness. _How long can it take to find a damned pair of scissors?_

But he had made it and that was all that mattered. It didn't hurt as he cut my shoe away, but even his barely-there grip on my ankle stung and made me yelp. I gripped the table until my knuckles turned white with strain as he poked and prodded it.

He was muttering to himself. "Probably two to three times the normal size…not broken, thank the almighty…no stitches needed…stint…" He walked away again, but before the awkward silence really had a chance to creep in he was back with a large stick of wood and some wraps. I sighed and prepared for the pain.

When the doctor was done, I was surprised at how much better I felt. The cream on the cut and ice on the ankle had done wonders and I barely noticed the dull throb they made anymore.

Then there was the challenge of walking—which was something I found I was simply unable to do. We decided Claire would help me, and I wrapped an arm around her shoulders and she clutched my waist, but it seemed to be too hard for her. We took four steps and she sighed. "This isn't gonna work. Peter?"

He was by our side immediately, Elle reluctantly following so she could continue to flirt. "Yeah?"

"I don't think I can help Bella. Can you take care of it?"

I honestly didn't mind the idea when it was first suggested—so Peter would help me out to the car and the house, big deal. We had agreed to try Claire's blood once again, since there were left-over syringes from the Nathan incident. But then Peter decided to forgo the typical arm over the shoulder technique and just scoop me up like I was nothing. Again I yelped and instinctively latched onto his neck as the ground slipped from under my feet.

He grinned. "Don't worry, I'm not gonna drop you."

I looked at him, surprised, but the shock faded into embarrassment as the blush spread yet again. _I'd rather you did…oh God, look at Elle's face…she's about ready to kill me! Peter, put me down, please please please please please please…_

And yet I was the lucky one with the shield, so he had no clue that this was the last thing I wanted as we easily made our way down the halls toward the lobby. _You think it'd be closer, but no. Lady Luck loves me to death._

_Only because she plans to kill me._

I decided to just fall into a metaphorical black hole and block out everything, allowing Claire to chatter about the day and the various boys who hit on her to Peter. Elle's mood seemed to stay sour as we made our way out and I became almost hyperaware of Peter's arms beneath me. _God, why? Why must I be embarrassed everywhere I go? First he walks in and I'm half naked, then he nearly feels me up, and now he's carrying me like…like a bride!_

Of course I knew it was wrong of me to think this way and worse for me to blame him. It wasn't his fault I was there, but mine and my attraction for injuries. And then he was simply concerned about his niece's best friend and decided to check out my gash, _definitely not_ feel me up. And then Claire had asked him to take care of me, and surely it was easier for someone with super-strength to just carry someone rather than help them drag their feet slower than the grass grows.

So it was all coincidence mixed with logic, I get that. But those facts didn't take away from the awkwardness and humiliation I felt. Here was Peter, a not quite confirmed friend of mine, obviously giving off the impression we were _together_! What thing to see! And God, were people seeing it—I could feel them staring as I childishly closed my eyes to just avoid the situation altogether.

_Okay, Bella, go over the good things. You didn't have to confront Mike about seeing you half-naked. The hospital had to have forgotten to call Charlie, so no worries there. You're pretty much in the clear—unless you die of embarrassment or Elle gets her hands on you._

I chose that moment to peek over at her, and she wasn't looking at me. There was still a slight frown on her face, but she was quiet as she walked alongside us, a slight frown on her face. She didn't seem to be paying attention to anything. Immediately, thinking of her and remembering my current, rather interesting situation, I thought back to her words.

'_So, who's the hot date?'_

It was preposterous, to think of Peter and I involved in any way more than the strange slight friendship we had going right now. After all, I was best friends with his niece, and he was eleven years older than me! There was simply no way a man like Peter would want a scrawny teenager like me! And it wasn't like I wanted him that way either—sure I wanted him to like me, even possibly be my friend, but nothing like that!

I looked up at him sheepishly, and I don't think he saw, as he was looking at the doors looming in front of us. It was just…well, the words and the idea wouldn't go away, now that she said it. Of course I knew it was outrageous to think of Peter and I—a couple! As if! And yet, I could somehow almost…picture it in my mind. Maybe it was the idea and his touch, which seemed to be burning me at the moment, but I couldn't shake it.

After all, Elle wasn't wrong when she implied that he was cute—he was amazingly handsome, I'd give him that. And he was funny, too; not to mention sweet and kind and—what the hell was I thinking? To the normal outsider it would look like I actually _wanted_ him that way or something!

I shook my head violently, making him look down at me. "You alright, Bella?" _Dammit, no Peter. I'm sitting here actually _imagining_ us together. God, I'm disgusting. You're my best friend's _uncle_! Oh, throw me in hell right now…and please don't look at me that way._

"Uh, fine," I said quietly, carefully avoiding his eyes—and, well, his face altogether. I looked forward to the window and he seemed to see that I didn't want to speak, so he dropped it. I sighed. _I am going crazy. It's official. This is Peter! _Peter_!_

Reassured that I was merely suffering from temporary insanity and surely it would pass the moment he stopped touching me and my lingering mortification wore away, I settled back in his arms…_you know, Peter, my offer of you dropping me still stands…_


	12. Family Ties

_AN: Hello friends! How are ya'll this wonderful Saturday morning? It may be stupid of me to post today, being that no one's on, but a mostly-finished draft has been sitting for days and I pushed through and made it here. Now it must be put up._

_Well, that being said, I'd like to mention that I DESPISE this chapter. Truly I do. But it's begun a HUGE landslide affect that will be detailed in the next chapters. Believe it or not, hidden in here are multiple turning points that set off other events not previously foreseen. Yay for that!_

_I just hate the writing in this one. I was coming up so blank it was sad, so I had to get it over and done with in order to move on. Maybe at a later date I can go back and redo this, but until then it stays in its crappish form._

_Which reminds me that looking back over the last chapter, there were 3 mistakes that I let slip through! THREE! God I felt so horrible reading through it…I wanted to jump off a building. But I didn't because I'd soon be wishing I had Claire's ability, and sadly, I don't. :P_

_Well, now that I've detailed the importance of this chapter and its suckishness; which is a major contradiction, I know; I suppose I should allow you to actually READ it in the next million years so you can see for yourself._

_Um…I don't think there's anything else to say, luckily, so this show can get on the road. Hell, let's throw it on the highway because baby, this story just got interesting! :D_

_Immolation Chapter 11: Family Ties_

"_The world really is much smaller than we think it is…"_

He glanced casually through the list, scanning each name and location. He would have to wait a while, lie low, or find a way to dispose of the bodies. He didn't need people knowing he was still alive, and his way of killing was somewhat out of the ordinary. Each power was something different. _Teleportation, telekinesis, pyrokinesis, power negation, super speed, negative duplication…_

He started and read the information on that one; he'd never heard of it before. _Person with negative duplication possesses a shield that can block other abilities on oneself, and when trained, can be stretched to others. Though, this shield is strong enough to negate powers within the holder of said powers, even stealing them or duplicating them for one's own use. An extremely powerful mimicking/blocking ability._

He grinned. This person could block abilities as well as duplicate them for themselves? He could use this. He looked at the name and information and smiled. It was only all the way across the country. He began to plan out the encounter.

He smirked and glanced once again at the name and town before setting off for the subway. He laughed and began to make his way to the train._ Who the hell names a town Forks?_

III

I smiled at Claire who merely nodded to me. We were seated on the couch across from Peter, who was looking at Claire with concentration. I grabbed onto her, doing the same. I tried to feel for the shield that Peter spoke of, tried to find it around my mind. I bit my lip and closed my eyes, not sure what I was looking for. It was like trying to drudge up a memory I'd long forgotten.

I slit open an eye and Peter shook his head, indicating that Claire's thoughts were still available to him. I bit harder, ignoring the pain as I squeezed my eyes shut tightly, trying to find something. But I was quickly giving up hope. We had been practicing all day, and while I knew this was probably one of those things that didn't happen overnight, I was still getting discouraged. I had hoped to make some sort of advancement, but it was already getting dark and we still had nothing.

I sighed. I wasn't about to give up, though. I'd keep fighting simply because I'd feel like a failure if I didn't try. So I looked and sorted and pushed, but nothing came.

And suddenly, I did feel something.

I was so startled I gasped, letting go of Claire's hand, and sat straight up, my eyes flying open. Claire looked over at me and Peter did the same. "What's wrong? Did she do it?" she looked over at Peter for answers, but he shook his head, just as confused.

"I…I felt it," I whispered, still awed. "I could feel the shield you were talking about! Don't ask me how I know what it was but…I did!"

Peter's eyes widened. "What was it like?"

I shook my head, a furrow in my brow as I recalled. "Like…like liquid rubber." It had been smooth and rippled under my mental touch, bending beneath me. I had felt its whole presence, wrapped securely around my mind. I wasn't sure if I would be able to do anything else with it, but I knew now that it was there.

"Wanna keep trying or stop?" Claire asked finally.

"We can't stop." This was the glimmer of hope I needed—now I was sure that the shield itself actually existed, and I could try and find it again. I smiled and nodded to Peter, who seemed slightly happier as he looked at Claire.

I felt around in my mind again, shutting my eyes as I tried to find the warm thing again. I pushed and pulled and tried to do the same thing as I had before, but I wasn't finding it. Ten minutes or so passed, with still nothing more. I bit my lip again in concentration, adjusting my position and grabbing Claire's hand.

Another ten minutes passed. And again, as suddenly as before, I felt it. A warm, rippling presence, wrapped gently yet securely around my mind. I didn't jump as I did, though it did surprise me. As I reached out toward it, it was like it wrapped around the tendril of consciousness that was me. It rippled and moved as I thought. _Wow, definitely not what I expected._

But I didn't swerve off course. I thought to it, hoping something would happen. _Please, please work._ It shivered, but did nothing. _Move._ And it did; it quivered and pulled, shifting, but not detaching itself or stretching away from me as I thought it would. It rippled like a pond around me.

I licked my lips with determination, trying to concentrate on getting it to do something. I tried to force it out and to my right, where Claire was currently sitting, but it didn't move like I expected it to. It…it _slithered_ down, stretching from around just my mind to my neck and spreading to the rest of my body. I could feel it, like a second skin, wrapping around me.

And then, just as it reached the hand holding Claire, I gasped for breath. I hadn't been aware that I was holding it, but my eyes flew open as I heaved in air and it snapped back into place, gone. I felt for it, but it was gone, and I had a feeling that was all I'd get for today.

I sighed and slumped back into the couch, gulping in air to replace what I'd deprived my body of, feeling tired all of the sudden. I let go of Claire's hand as Peter questioned me. "Did you feel it again?"

I nodded wearily, but smiled. "I even got it to move. But then I stopped because I wasn't breathing and it went away again."

"Got it to move?" Claire asked. "You mean you blocked my mind?"

I shook my head. "No, not yet. It was like…spreading over my body, and was about to go to yours, but it was taking a lot of concentration and I lost it." I bit my lip, angry with myself for allowing it to slip through my fingers so easily.

She smiled, though. "That's okay Bella, you're getting better. Pretty soon we'll find out all the things you can do." I nodded and smiled, before looking at the clock—it was nine, and we all had yet to eat because of the hospital incident. My father, had, in fact, shown up and told me to be more careful. But he had to go back for a late shift because another family of hikers was missing—this time with two little girls.

So I was back at Claire's and Peter's, and needed to make dinner. Briefly I wondered if Elle was mad at me—after all, Peter had only gotten back from taking her home an hour ago. But I doubt she would be—she had willingly gone to the hospital in the first place, and I think she knew we might be there a while.

I shrugged and forced myself up, looking over and smiling at them. "I think I'll make something to eat, if that's alright." I looked over at Peter for my answer; he had to be getting tired of me over all the time, cooking their food.

He rolled his eyes. "You don't see me complaining. It's just that we really don't have anything."

I licked my lips and sighed. I was in dire need of a grocery trip anyway, so what would it hurt to borrow their car and stop for us both? "Mind if I…uh, use your car?" It was such an awkward question to ask, I instantly felt stupid. But he just shrugged and handed me the keys.

"Sure. For what, though?"

"I figured I'd pick up groceries." He began to reach for his wallet, but I gripped his arm to stop him. "I'll get it, don't worry. I do come over here and use up all your food anyway."

"Bella," he began, but I shot him a look.

"I'll be back soon, though, I'm pretty fast. Thanks so much for letting me use the car," I said quietly, and they both nodded as Peter went to pop in a movie. Claire decided to stay behind and consequently quiz her uncle on Elle, so I slipped out the door.

When at the grocery store, everything seemed to go according to plan. I was just about done when there was a tap on my shoulder. I turned around to see a small, round-faced Asian man. He smiled up at me through his glasses. His voice was cheery and he spoke in broken, thickly accented English. "Excuse me miss. But do you know where I can find Mr. Petrelli?"

I raised my eyebrows. "Peter Petrelli?" He nodded vigorously. I examined him silently for a moment, but honestly didn't see a threat, considering he was small and slightly nerdy-looking. Not to mention Peter was super strong, among other things. I smiled back at him, the cheery air contagious.

"Um, yeah, actually. I'll take you there if you want. I'm almost done shopping." He smiled and walked alongside me as I threw random things into the cart, now slightly distracted. What a strange occurrence, to have someone at the grocery store; whom I'd never seen before; ask me if I knew Peter, when I just happened to.

"So," I began as we made our way down an aisle. "What's your name?"

"Hiro Nakamura, miss…"

"Bella Swan." He nodded.

"Bella Swan. It's so nice to meet you."

I smiled again. "It's nice to meet you too. So, Hiro, what brings you to Forks?"

He seemed to contemplate it silently for a moment, and I reached over for a bottle of ketchup. "I need to tell Peter what happened a while ago." He paused. "Miss Bella, are you sp—" he was abruptly cut off by a shout.

"Hey! You! Get over here!" Some security guy ran down the aisle toward us, and I felt my eyes widen as the bottle of ketchup hit the floor. What had I done? Did they think I stole something?

And yet he grabbed Hiro, instead. "You're coming with me."

"Wait, sir," I said quietly, latching onto his arm. What had little Hiro done wrong? "What's happened?"

He huffed at me. "We've had complaints from other customers that he's been harassing them about some Peter Petrelli. We told him to stop and all he'd do is babble about it then run away. Been chasing him all over." He looked over at Hiro, who wasn't struggling, even though he had an awfully tight grip on his arm. "You're coming with me."

"Sir, can't we…?" But I didn't get to finish, as they were already halfway down the aisle.

III

Peter and Claire were sitting, watching a movie, waiting for Bella to show up again. She had left in order to shop for groceries, which he was extremely grateful for, as he never really had much time to do it himself, and he wasn't sure how well Claire would do. But he trusted Bella.

She had borrowed the car, though he could tell she was nervous about it. He inwardly chuckled to himself—of all the people, Bella would be nervous about driving their car, even with both of their repeated assurances that it was fine and they had plenty of money should anything go wrong.

He sighed, glancing at the clock. What was it about Bella going out at this late hour that made him so uneasy? Maybe it was that she just looked so frail and weak—he doubted if anything happened she could defend herself properly. He pushed it out of his mind; no reason to dwell. She'd be back soon.

Claire looked over at him. "So."

He raised his eyebrows at her, turning down the movie. "So?"

"Elle," she responded coolly. "Do you…you know, like her like that?"

He nearly laughed. Elle was an interesting character, to say the least. The whole ride all the way out to her house—which was quite a ways away—had been non-stop flirting on her part. She would say the most random things, sometimes insulting him, sometimes complimenting him, and smirk suggestively the whole time. It had been a colorful ride, to say the least.

But she was a teenager—eighteen and in her senior year. She still lived with her parents for Christ's sake! That wasn't, in his opinion, a very appealing factor. And though Elle looked older, she acted quite immature at times—she even pouted when he didn't respond to her advances. The idea of actually desiring Elle that way was laughable.

"Trust me, Claire, I don't wanna date your friend," he assured her, because he didn't.

She huffed. "Good. Watching her flirt with you had to be the weirdest experience of my life." He laughed.

"I guess that's understandable. But don't worry; I wouldn't do that to you."

"Cool." She grabbed the remote from his hand and turned the movie back up, looking relieved. He sighed and glanced at the clock again—_had that conversation really taken fifteen minutes? Time flies. And where is Bella?_

Just then, there was a knock at the door. He jumped to get it, probably a little too fast. He glanced at Claire, who was still set on watching the movie, not looking at him. He turned and walked down the hall, wondering why Bella would feel the need to knock when he had reminded her that he had left the door unlocked so she could just come in. _Then again, she might have so many groceries she can't open the door by herself._

He hurried over and opened the door, only to find someone completely opposite from Bella. "Peter Petrelli!"

"Hiro?" he questioned quietly. "What are you doing here?"

Immediately, his mood dulled. He slumped forward slightly, and walked in with that same, defeated posture. "I did not save the world, Peter Petrelli."

Peter furrowed his brow, shutting the door behind him as Hiro walked in. He directed him to the living room, where he flopped onto the couch next to Claire where Bella had been. "What do you mean?"

He sighed. "I was supposed to stab brain-man. But your glowing distracted me and…and he got away."

Peter didn't know what to say, or how to console him properly, but he did the best he could. "Don't worry, Hiro. It's not your fault. And we'll get Sylar."

The man slumped backward even further into the couch. "I am sorry Peter Petrelli. I have failed."

Peter patted his arm awkwardly. "No, everyone makes mistakes. We'll get him, I promise."

Hiro sighed again, sitting sullenly as he stared at his toes, before jumping up enthusiastically, his normal bouncy energy renewed once again. "I suppose you are right. But first I must get Ando!" And then he disappeared.

III

D.L. called to the driver and quickly scooped up Micah, managing to balance their bags and the limp child as he made his way out of the bus and into the dark, damp street. He looked around himself—they were in a sleazy alley, but they were in a sleazy alley in Seattle, and that was all that mattered at this point.

He threw the bags over his shoulder and gently shifted Micah, who stirred but didn't awaken. _I need to get this kid to a bed, pronto._ He sighed and looked around himself, before quickly making his way to a promising looking street. At least it had lights.

He emerged and immediately bumped into someone, who scowled at him even though he was obviously not quite capable of keeping perfect track of his surroundings. He ignored him and turned right at the flashing neon that advertised a motel.

He reached the main office and managed to somehow dig out enough money for two nights. He walked down the hall and shoved open the door, throwing the bags down before slowly lowering Micah onto the mattress and brushing a stray piece of hair from his eyes. He sighed, gazing down at his son for a moment—the product of he and a woman who was most likely running on a crazy rampage at this very moment.

Again he cursed Jessica, but had nothing to do about it. Deeming the situation unfixable, he lay down next to Micah and stared at the ceiling.

But before long, a small, scratchy voice came from next to him. "Dad?"

He looked down at Micah with a small smile. "Hey, buddy. We're in Seattle now. Wanna go find Mom?"

Micah nodded to him and they set off out the hotel with haste. The faster they got to Jessica, the faster they got home.

III- _The next day, Claire and Peter's residence _–III

I looked over at Peter and smiled, and he returned it, before nodding at Claire, indicating that I should continue. It was Wednesday, Peter's off-day, and we were practicing my power more. And it was amazing, how easy and natural it was becoming to manipulate the shield.

So far I was able to get it around my whole body—although, the moment it touched Claire, the harder it became to uphold. So far I hadn't been able to get it around her mind, but that point was looming ever closer and I couldn't help but feel excited and determined. I had convinced myself that it would be done today, even if for a small sliver of time.

I bit my lip and began to concentrate, seeking out the shield. Almost instantly I could feel the warmth it seemed to exude, and it wrapped itself around my mind. I forced it to stretch and move, and it began to slither away from my mind outward. I directed it toward Claire and could feel it begin to stretch into the air toward her. It inched forward, pushing in her direction.

It touched her and I put extra force on it, keeping it from snapping back as it had been prone to lately. I pushed with all my might and felt it move closer, closer…and finally, it snapped. I could almost hear the ring in my ears as it stretched around Claire's mind, hugging it as tightly as it hugged my own. The feeling was a strange one…it was like I was connected to her, in a way.

Peter gasped and looked over at me. "You did it," he said slowly.

"She did it?" Claire asked with excitement and shock in her voice.

He nodded, "I can't read a thing…from either of you."

Claire reached over and hugged me—and although I wasn't usually a fan of such strong emotion, I laughed and hugged her back. I had done it—a wave of relief and a feeling of success washed over me, putting my mind at ease. It was done—I was able to stretch my shield to other people.

"So, Bella," Peter began casually. "Do you think you might wanna—" but he was cut off before he could finish. With a frown, he headed off toward the phone where he talked in a hushed voice. I stared after him for a moment, but snapped out of it, berated myself, and looked over to Claire.

She smiled at me. "Aren't you so happy? Now we can actually utilize your power and stuff!"

I felt my smile fall. "Utilize it? How?"

Her smile dropped also, "Well…we've probably got some people after us, so if we ever come across a power that needs blocking, well, you're the one to do it."

I furrowed my brows as the hidden meaning of her words became apparent. "You want me to…use my powers in a fight?"

She sighed. "I guess you could think of it that way. I don't wanna sound rude or anything, but we could really use your help."

I shook off the bad feelings I got about helping harm another—after all, if the situation arose, they would be after Peter and Claire, and that was incentive enough for me to help them. Hell, I'd jump in front of a bullet for them. "Sorry I gave you the wrong impression—you've both already done so much for me; I'll be willing to help whenever."

"You're the best, Bella!" She wrapped her arms around me again. "I'm so glad Peter landed here. I don't know where we'd be without you."

I felt touched by her words, but only laughed and responded with a comment I didn't register—Peter had walked into the room and taken my attention, as he seemed able to do as of late. I cursed my teenage hormones because _that's all this was. Teenage hormones._

He still wore a frown, a deep furrow of concentration in his brow as he sat back in the armchair and stared at the floor. Claire and I looked at him silently for a moment before she spoke. "Is something wrong?"

He shook his head no, but responded differently. "Yeah, a little."

I bit my lip. "What's happened?"

He looked up at me with those intense eyes of his, and I fought to pay attention to his words as they locked onto mine. "I guess someone's escaped from the Company somehow. Noah said they've been distracted with another project of some sort and a guy named Jason Mallory made it out."

_Jason Mallory…Jason Mallory…why does that ring a bell?_ For a moment I was unsure of where I'd heard the name, but suddenly it clicked to one of my first days when Jessica had siphoned out the local gossip.

"_Yeah, totally. I guess he's like, in some special prison or something. No one knows why or if he'll, like, ever get out," Jessica said quietly, digging a spoon into her pudding. I looked up at her, slightly dazed—he was gone again today. This made four days in a row, and I couldn't help but wonder if it was my fault…it didn't seem like a random string of coincidences. He suddenly hated me in Biology, tried to switch classes the same day, stormed past me, and then fell off the face of the earth._

"_Who, what?" I asked slowly, still distracted. She sighed dramatically, rolling her eyes._

"_Jason Mallory, Lauren's dad. He's some sort of prisoner all the way out in Seattle, where she moved from. And I also told you that Tyler Crowley's mom ended up adopting these twins that totally turned out to be her own kids from five years ago! How creepy is that?"_

"_Yeah…yeah, creepy," I responded, looking back over to the table with one missing person yet again._

Jason Mallory. Lauren Mallory's dad…he turned out to be in not just a special prison, but a prison for special people…_which means he can do something extraordinary, no doubt…and he's probably roaming around here!_ "And he's heading this way, isn't he?" I asked.

He looked surprised. "Yeah. How…?"

"Lauren's dad." I looked to Claire, whose eyes seemed to bug out of their skull.

"Are you serious?" I only nodded, and her face turned stony. "Small world," she said drily.

"What am I missing?" Peter was slightly agitated with being left out of the loop, so I explained to both of them what Jessica had told me.

"And there's no way it's some weird coincidence," I reasoned. "If he's out this way, it would be for his family. I'm ninety-nine point nine percent sure."

Claire nodded. "Who would be lurking around Forks for no reason?"

"Care to fill me in?" Peter snapped.

I grinned sheepishly at him, a blush heating my cheeks. "Um, a girl we go to school with—"

Claire interrupted me with a roll of her eyes, "The biggest, bitchiest manipulator ever."

I smiled and continued as if she hadn't interrupted—after all, she wasn't wrong, in my opinion. And I'd gone to school with a senior class of over a thousand of those same snarky blonde cheerleaders. No offense to Claire, of course, being that she was a nice girl stuck in a stereotyped body. "Her father was in jail for a time, though no one knew why…and now we do."

His brow remained furrowed, though the brief annoyance he had with us was gone immediately. He seemed to be pondering it. "All Noah said was that he was dangerous and heading this way. He…gently urged me to try and recapture him." I had a feeling he was giving us the understatement of the year when he said 'gently urged'.

I bit my lip. "Did he happen to tell you what his power is?"

He nodded. "It's pretty ugly…he can manipulate matter. As in make things move or bend or change. Well, inanimate objects, at least."

It was silent for a while as we absorbed this information—well, Claire might have. I started to think it over, to plan, but that was lost as I looked up at Peter. Rarely had I ever seen eyes so intense, so captivating—and I wasn't going to recall who else had that same, swirling liquid pool effect. Only Peter's was _better_. His was a genuine gift, while…the person in question's had been the average among his kind. He was made to be beautiful—Peter, admittedly, simply was.

I bit my lip harder and broke our eye contact—how he dealt with my constant staring was beyond me—by closing my eyes and dropping my head slightly lower. _Now_ I could think.

_So, Jason Mallory is Lauren's father, who had been captured by the Company and hauled away. But Noah, honestly, didn't seem like that bad of a man. After all, he went to such lengths to protect Claire, when her ability could be so important to doctors and scientists everywhere. So surely if this man wasn't too much a threat, he'd let it go—especially because Claire told me that he was already distracted by a call he had gotten from a Dr. Suresh._

_If that's the case, which seems likely, then Jason Mallory must be pretty dangerous. Especially if Noah's going to such lengths as coercing the guy who's currently taking care of the daughter he's trying to protect. And that power of his is pretty scary—or at least can be._

"So," I began. "What's the plan?"

Peter frowned. "I go after him. Now I don't even have to worry about tracking him down or anything. Where does Lauren live?"

Clare and I shook out heads, and he sighed. "Alright, change of plan—I need to find out where Lauren lives, _then_ hunt him down."

"Now?" He nodded and my eyes widened. "You can't go now, it's nearly dark!"

Peter stared at me for a moment, and I began to lose my train of thought when he finally spoke. "I have to. If he's dangerous we can't have him running around."

I began to argue. "Peter, no! I promise, I'll find out where she lives for you—you just can't go tonight. It's too late. You wanna be able to see so that way he can't get away."

He seemed to consider my reasoning for a moment, before sighing and settling back in his seat. "You're right. Thanks, Bella." I smiled and nearly blushed for no reason other than the thanks was from him; what was wrong with me? Suddenly I was some mushy teenager over my best friend's uncle! It was sad.

I bit my lip for the millionth time that night. "No problem."

There was a beat of palpable silence before Claire broke it. "So…"

I got up and glanced back at the clock. "I've gotta go home. I'll see you at school Claire—I'll see you tomorrow, Peter." They both nodded and Claire smiled and waved, turning to watch out the window as I got into my truck and pulled away.

On my way home, I didn't think about anything, simply half-dazed as I took the well-word route. Soon enough I was stepping in the door and calling out to Charlie, who responded with a quick one word and left me be. I smiled at him as I passed and made my way up the stairs.


	13. Alleys

_AN: Well, I'm not the fondest of this chapter, but it'll do. Like I said, big stuff is brewing. Not here quite yet, but close enough, I assure you._

_AND BY THE WAY, I TURNED ON ANONYMOUS REVIEWS! So, you know; if you don't have an account and wanna drop me a line, you're now able to. Not that I'm pushing you or anything, but the option's there! :D_

_And you wanna know what I just thought of? I didn't even think about it as I usually just reply to questions in a review I get in my AN's, and most of the reviews I've ever given never got replied to anyway, but would you guys like me to reply? Wow, that may sound like a weird question, but it was better in my head, I swear._

_Either way, even if it makes no difference, I'm going to. It'll be a bit odd to go back and reply, but any reviews from here on out will be replied to, I swear. And in the mean time I'd like to assure you I appreciate everything, even a smiley-face. I do love me some smiley-faces. :D (Exhibit A)_

_But yes, I just had this revelation as I was writing this chapter. I was just thinking about how cool it was when I wrote to an author in a review and they replied back—it always made me feel how I'd guess it would be to talk to an actual published author, simply because everyone I've read on here is awesome. Way better than the stuff I try to post, lol._

_So I wanted that out there. Other than that…there's nothing for me to say here. I'll allow you time to read and if you do review, I will reply this time, I swear on my life!_

_Immolation Chapter 12: Alleys_

"_Every once in a while, I find that my bad luck has no boundaries whatsoever…"_

Peter surveyed the small area closely, wiping dirt from his brow and throwing the shovel into the forest. He simply didn't want to have to carry it back only to return it to the garbage can he'd found it in, and there weren't any hiking trails nearby, so why did it matter?

And it looked like he was in the clear now—the crater was covered and random shrubs and grasses had been planted above it. So, in a way, it looked like it never happened. No one would look too closely anyway, so he didn't have anything to worry about.

He looked up at the dark sky. A storm was brewing and because of that it looked to be around nine at night when it was actually only four in the afternoon. He sighed, not exactly fond of the dreary town he was in, and took to the sky. At least he had been right in wearing dark clothing.

He loved flying. It had to be the best sensation in the world—the wind whipping at your skin and hair, a feeling of weightlessness, the slight condensation misting your face. He didn't know what could be better.

He looked down at Forks, watching the little people. He could recognize a few from work or something, but no one saw him, which was good. But suddenly, he didn't like what he saw—it was a dark, abandoned alley right behind the library, and a group of men were gathered around something. He identified it as a struggling woman, who they had pushed against the wall of the library aggressively. Her shouts rang out unanswered.

He immediately landed around the deserted corner, turned, and what he saw next gave him quite the shock. It was Bella against the wall, men laughing and taunting her.

"No, let go of me!" she shouted at them, more angry than afraid as she tried to struggle. But she was pinned.

"Not this time, hun."

She didn't say anything else as she struggled, and he seemed to have the breath knocked out of him as he saw a woman he _knew_ about to get violated that way. Something seemed to take over—his blood ran cold with a heady mix of fear, fury, and adrenaline. Everything was skewed with a reddish tinge.

He wasn't sure what happened. Men flew and blood was spilt, bones were most likely broken. He was out of it—but when he came to, it was only Bella and him, standing alone in the alley, unconscious men littering the street around them. His eyes drifted over to her, and she stood against the wall with a strange expression on her face. Her breathing was heavy.

"Thank you," she choked out.

"Are you okay?"

"I'm fine." She obviously wasn't experiencing shock, but her features were twisted with something that looked like worry.

She ran up to him suddenly, wrapping her arms around his waist and squeezing. He didn't expect it and looked down at her, to see her head buried in his shirt. He wasn't quite sure how to react.

"What's wrong?"

She didn't respond, only squeezed him tighter. He wasn't about to pry her off, but they did need to get going. "Do you want me to take you back to your house?"

She shook her head, but seemed to realize that they did need to leave before someone came to answer her calls and found just the two of them in what was obviously more than a bit of a scuffle. She stepped back a few steps and was now a foot away, but that strange face remained as her eyes met his. They locked and he couldn't look away as he tried to figure out just what he saw there.

Finding that he was still unable to get anything but that worry and a small something else from her gaze, he reached out to her. "Are you alright?" he asked again.

She paused, genuinely thinking over her answer. "I will be. Let's go." She reached for his hand, but he brought her to him, picked her up, and flew into the sky. "Your house, please," she added, before shutting her eyes against the wind.

III

We landed outside his house, and I could see the TV on inside. I looked briefly at it but switched my gaze to him. He had set me down but hadn't let go of me, which was slightly odd, though I wasn't about to complain. His fingers were warm through my shirt as I recalled today.

His questions of whether or not I was alright came to mind. Immediately I wanted to say yes, to forget about what happened, but the look in his eyes had made me hesitate in that. He was looking for a genuine, truthful answer, and I had no choice but to give it to him.

At that moment, in the alley with those very same men from all those months ago, I hadn't been okay. I had been scared that they were going to get back up, hurt me—or probably even worse; hurt him. I wanted to get out of there as quickly as possible.

But as far as mental state, I was okay. Shaken, yes, but after so long in danger I had learned to get used to instances like that. Of course at the time I had been both angry and terrified—no one was there to save me and I was surely going to pay for slipping through their grasp once. I doubted that I'd even live through it.

Then like magic Peter appeared. I remember his face, so furious, as he pulled them off me. He was able to pick them off like nothing, flinging them into the nearby walls and even giving the one who was holding me an extra blow or two. And then when he turned to me, for just the slightest moment, I thought I could see something else burning in his eyes. Although at the time my mind was slightly hazy and I wasn't the best source.

But now we were here and he was looking down into my eyes. His grip tightened imperceptibly as I locked mine on his—I wouldn't have even caught it if I hadn't been so focused on the feel of his hands. Though I was more focused elsewhere—on that same expression I could have sworn flashed over his face only briefly as he looked at me in the alley.

Maybe I was hallucinating, the shock getting to my head, but I also, at this moment, could have sworn he was closer to me than where he had started. I licked my lips subconsciously and our eye contact broke as he looked down at them, but the intensity only grew. It was like electricity was in the air and I couldn't _breathe_.

"Guys?" Claire poked her head around the door curiously and looked out at us. "I thought I heard Peter land. Hey Bella." She smiled at me and I backed away from Peter, my eyes suddenly wide, caught red-handed. My face flooded, matching my red shirt.

In her smile, though, it seemed something was hidden. Whether it was a darker humor or no humor at all, I didn't like the tainted expression she gave me. It seemed tighter and unnatural. "So what are you guys doing out here?" Was there another implication to that or was I simply paranoid? After all, I had a feeling I would have moved forward and kissed her uncle had she not stopped me, which would be something I would have paid for in guilt later on.

And I couldn't thank her enough for that. Though the desire was great—I'd admit it, because after that I would be crazy to keep denying that I was attracted to Peter—I also didn't want to see the disgusted look on his face as he pushed me away and vowed never to speak to me again. Of course I would deserve it, but nonetheless, it was a situation better left avoided.

"We just landed. Peter saved me," I responded, probably too late to look natural. Though she didn't comment on the timing, merely widened her eyes and walked down the steps and over to me.

"Saved you? What happened?" She gave me a once-over and looked into my eyes, finding nothing wrong.

"Um…there were these guys," I began, blushing. It almost seemed like a long time ago, and I was more embarrassed than scared at this point. Although the memory of their hands on me elicited anger and slight fear, but more than anything it was simply disgust. "In an alley."

There was recognition on her face and she seemed to freeze for an immeasurable amount of time. Everything stilled as Peter and I watched her, carefully avoiding looking at each other. Her eyes were the only thing to move as they roved over me. "Nothing happened," I could have sworn I heard the silence shatter as I spoke. "Peter stopped it. I'm fine now."

Her breath whooshed out of her and she wrapped her arms loosely around me. "That's good. That's really good." I didn't know what else to do but respond to her hug in kind.

For a moment the world stilled again, but I was happier this time—I was unharmed and here with two of my favorite people in the world. And suddenly I remembered the reason I had been at the library in the first place.

I brought my arms from around Claire and looked at her only for a moment. I knew I would have to eventually…I forced my eyes to Peter, who immediately met them with his. I liked my lips again and looked away, shame pulsing through me like blood—I had about to kiss him, I just knew it. A second later and Claire would have walked in on me forcing myself onto her uncle…what a picture.

I shook those thoughts away and brought up my findings, "Turns out Lauren lives just down the block from you guys."

"Really? Freaky," Claire said, but I laughed.

"Claire, it's not all that freaky when you've got a town the size of my pinkie finger," I wiggled said finger in the air to bring my point home. "So, Peter, let's go." I began to walk down the street in the direction of her house, but his disbelieving voice stopped me.

"'Let's'? Bella, you can't go." I froze and swiveled to face him.

"But—"

He shook his head. "Neither of you can. It's too dangerous and I don't want you guys in harm's way."

Claire burst out at that. "Hey, I _can't _be in danger!"

He simply shook his head again, but I wasn't about to give up. I stepped forward; my best pout on my face, determination making me puff my chest out only slightly. "I can help you with my power and Claire can't get hurt! There's no way you're leaving us behind."

He stared at me for a minute, his eyes scrutinizing me. I began to worry he was angry and about to just leave, but he sighed. "Fine, I could probably use you guys just in case. But you have to stay back." We both nodded in response.

Claire and I hung back after Peter as the all too short trip commenced. No one spoke the whole way there, but there wasn't much of a trip to speak of. Soon enough I pointed to the house, recognizing the address and the mailbox that read _'Mallory'_.

Peter knocked on the door, and we heard faint shouting. _"I'm not gonna let you out this house looking like a slut!"_

"_I always wear these clothes! And it's our first date!"_

"_Well I'm putting an end to it! Now get to your room!"_

The door opened to reveal a tired looking blonde woman with a small five year-old boy attached to her. He cowered behind her when he saw Peter, and I heard a faint door slam. "Just like her father…" the woman muttered. She looked like an older, kinder Lauren.

"Anything I can do for you?" she asked impatiently, though not impolitely.

"Yes, ma'am," Claire pushed past Peter to speak. "We'd like to see Jason Mallory, please."

The woman looked at us apprehensively. She walked out, her posture stiff, and the boy followed. "David, get in the house," she said quietly, and immediately my hair stood on end. This was not a good reaction.

She shut the door behind her as the boy ran into what was obviously a living room. She crossed her arms and looked at Peter, not even noticing my presence. Which was probably a good thing, because surely she would recognize me. I stuck behind him, out of her eyesight. "What's happened?"

"He's escaped prison, Mrs. Mallory, no matter what he told you, and we—"

She cut him off, a fierce look on her face. "That fucker hasn't been around since sixteen years ago when he disappeared, and I've got a restraining order out on him. Good thing he's in prison. But he's not anywhere near here. Now I want you to leave," she said in an angry, clipped tone.

Peter spoke in a kind, soothing tone, "Before we go, did he have any places he hung around?"

She pointed to the left. "This stupid pub called Pablo's Palace in Seattle."

Peter nodded again, "Thank you," though I could hear slight exasperation and disappointment in his voice. We turned and left, but suddenly I stopped and cringed as her voice reached me again.

"Bella Swan? What are you doing here with them?" I turned and looked at her. I bit my lip, my mind scrambling for a lie.

"I…my dad had me help them look for the criminal, because I know where Lauren lives…I'm sorry." Her narrowed eyes relaxed and she smiled.

"No problem hun, helping out the public. Damn I wish Lauren was more like you." With that she turned and went inside, and I let out the breath I had been holding.

"That was close," I whispered. I went over to Peter and Claire who were waiting with relieved expressions.

"Nice one, Bella," Claire sighed happily.

I threw her a faint smile, "I guess I can lie when it's really needed, huh?"

"Yep," she responded, before it was like she receded away into her own thoughts. The walk back to their place was an oddly uncomfortable one. Maybe it was the fact that Peter didn't look or speak to me once or Claire didn't seem in such a good mood.

Either way, I had a feeling something bad was coming.

III

Claire really didn't know what to think, at that point. She walked silently alongside Peter and examined his stony face out of the corner of her eye—it looked carefully emotion-less. He simply focused on getting back to the house.

She didn't even look at Bella. She just felt strange…not angry, no. Betrayed? Closer, but not quite, because she couldn't be sure of what she'd seen. Hell, she couldn't be sure of anything, if she was being completely honest.

It was just that position—he was holding her, his neck bent, and she was stretching, and there was a sort of fire between them that Claire had never seen before. And how had she not seen it, was the question? When had it happened? Or was she just imagining things—Bella had said they just landed, so maybe they were just in that awkward position when she decided to go check it out. It was plausible.

Besides, Bella wouldn't do that, would she? Go behind her back and…get involved with her uncle. And neither would Peter—he specifically said he wouldn't date her friend! Of course, they had been talking about Elle…and Elle and Bella were _nothing_ alike, she had to admit. While Elle seemed to be the exact opposite of what Peter would most likely look for in a girl, Bella was just the exact opposite of Elle.

Which made the two of them together make sense. But still, Bella wasn't the girliest girl on the planet, no, but she knew some simple things as far as 'girl-code' went. Like, family and exes are off-limits. She _did_ know that, right? It was, like, common sense.

And then Peter…well, she didn't really know what to say about Peter. If she was honest, she didn't really know Peter too much. He was her uncle and she loved him as such—she even had a small thing resembling a crush on him in the beginning—but his personality was still a bit of a mystery to her.

Well, it seemed to be decided, at least in her mind. Claire was more of a passive-aggressive type person, at least she thought so. She wouldn't react without reason and this _definitely_ gave her reason. Of course she wasn't about to punch Bella in the face or anything, but she wasn't going to sit back and not take any initiative in the things and people around her. So she'd find out more about Peter…

…and in the process, find out more about how Peter and Bella felt for each other. Because the more she ran over the picture of them in her own back yard together, the harder it was to deny that _something_ had to be going on. Even if it was a friendly hug, her old gossipy instincts were tingling and she wanted to find out what was up.

Did that make her sound so totally bitchy? She hoped not—she wanted to be the involved, caring family member, like Peter and Bella both seemed to be. In fact…she ran over the facts. So far, she knew both Peter and Bella were stubborn. They were part mule, totally serious. And they were also the kind, give-you-the-shirt-off-their-backs type of people; no joke. They both also would rather hang around with friends and family rather than go out for a night on the town. And Bella was more Peter's age in the head…Claire had even said those words herself once.

How had she not known from the beginning? Wasn't it like, a cheerleader's duty to know all there was to know about relationships? Of course, she didn't really call herself a cheerleader still, but considering these were the two people she saw practically _every day…_

When they arrived at the house, she looked at Peter warily, who obviously seemed into his own thoughts rather than hers _thank goodness_. She smiled back at Bella, who looked less nervous at the gesture. Had the girl been able to tell she felt off after catching them in the yard?

"Let's practice your power, how about?"

Bella's brow furrowed. "I thought we were going after Jason."

Claire rolled her eyes. "_We_ can't do squat because it's a bar. And not to mention it's way too early right now anyway. So why not get you better at using your power before we go down there—just in case you're needed, like, if he tries to run or something."

Bella nodded in response and looked questioningly up at Peter—who either didn't notice or pretended not to, Claire couldn't tell. But she _did_ get the feeling it was the latter…why would be the question to ask. "That alright?"

He merely nodded, opening the door to the house and allowing them inside. Claire plopped on the couch with Bella. "Put your shield on me. I have an idea."

Bella nodded and her brow dimpled as it usually did, her mouth stretching into a frown of concentration. Claire got up to go to the kitchen and pulled out a knife when she got there, walking back. She saw Bella's fists were clenched when she returned. Had they been that way before? "What's wrong Bella?"

She gritted her teeth and barely choked it out. "It's harder when you're far."

Claire merely nodded, though Bella didn't see with her eyes closed. "Do you still have it on me?" Bella nodded in response.

Claire took the knife and drew it lightly across her skin, and being that it was new; it was sharp enough to only sting rather than seriously hurt. A red line followed the blade, blood dripping from the wound and onto the floor. Claire watched in fascination as it did nothing.

That's right. It did nothing at all. While by now there would have been no cut to speak of, it was there, red and pulsing with only more blood. So it was confirmed—Bella not only shielded minds from other powers, she kept those minds from using the powers of their own. That was awesome.

Claire smiled at Bella. "Look!"

Said girl opened her eyes and her face immediately paled and turned a strange shade of green. "I thought I smelled something…" And the cut began to heal again. Claire was amazed, and so was Peter, who had seemingly materialized onto the armchair near them.

Claire smiled and thought, _Wow, isn't that awesome?_ She hoped Peter picked it up, and he must have because he nodded.

She looked over to Bella, who was now sitting, looking over at Peter. Her eyes snapped away from him with haste and landed on Claire's who merely raised an eyebrow. Bella's signature blush rose to her cheeks but she said nothing. Claire sighed.

"C'mon Bella. Let's go practice your power." The girl merely nodded, following after Claire toward her room. Though the look on her face was nearly priceless as Claire turned and shut the door, something she never did except for when they were going to sleep. And then it faded to something even better as Claire locked the door, something she simply _never did_. Claire nearly snickered.

Instead, she bounded over to the bed and jumped onto it, landing in the middle. She scooted back to rest against the headboard and patted Bella's favorite spot against the footboard. She took it hesitantly.

Claire smiled, but it was more forced than natural as the picture of Bella and her uncle came to mind—but she pushed it away. Surely Bella could explain things. "So, Bella. Let's talk."

"About what?" Bella had fallen back into the same old groove of things, which made smiling a lot easier.

"Boys," Claire said enthusiastically. "Anyone catch your eye?"

Bella looked startled. "What? Me? No. Nope, no one, none at all."

Claire laughed at the pathetic attempt, leaning back against the headboard fully. "Apparently you can't lie all the time. Spill."

"I…I…" Bella sat there and spluttered random unintelligible things, her cheeks and neck and arms all flaming red.

Claire suddenly sobered up and leaned forward, wanting to make sure her friend knew it was all right to tell her what she needed to. As long as it was out in the open, Claire would feel infinitely better—and she would never judge Bella for her feelings, no matter how weird of a situation it put herself in. "You know you can tell me, Bella."

Bella sighed and ran her hand through her hair, biting her lip. "It seems like you already know."

"I want it confirmed."

"I…I might have a small crush on…on Peter." And Bella, for her part, felt immensely relieved that it was out in the open with someone—like the load was a shared one.

Claire smiled. "I thought so." The smile fell. "So what are you gonna do about it?"

Bella didn't respond, but the silence—not to mention the despondent, nearly wounded grimace on her face as she stared down Claire's fluffy comforter—answered Claire's question. "You can't just do nothing when you love someone, Bella!"

Bella shook her head almost violently. "I don't! I mean, it's just a stupid crush, not…no, I'll get over it, Claire."

Claire sighed. "If you say so." And then they seemed to silently decide the matter was closed for the time being, slipping into actually practicing Bella's power with the knife Claire had brought along with her.

When Peter came to knock on the door, the alarm clock read nine. "I'm going to leave, are you coming?"

Bella looked confident as Claire responded with a "Yeah," nodding happily to Bella. "Are you excited?"

"Slightly," the other girl responded. "It's really easy to get it around your mind now, even from across the room."

They shuffled out into the hall where Peter was waiting quietly. "Let's go." He allowed them to walk ahead of him, turning to follow. Claire felt strange, being between her best friend and her uncle…and she had a feeling that she wasn't just between them when it came to the order in which they walked down the hall. No, she knew that she was probably a factor in Bella's mind when she decided not to pursue what Claire was sure was more than a crush.

Maybe it wasn't full-blown mushy love. She'd give Bella that. But at the same time, if she knew anything about Bella, it was that she did nothing half-way. If she felt about something or someone, she threw herself into it with fervor unlike Claire had ever seen before. Determined—maybe stubborn was more accurate—was Bella Swan's middle name. And while she knew Bella cared about them both and loved her like a sister; it was different, the way she saw her looking at Peter. Though that look was only seen twice, it still existed.

Claire sighed, shutting her car door and buckling her seatbelt. She decided she just didn't know what to think and would have to get the facts from both sides before she really had any for-sure clue on how either of them felt. Which meant a lot of careful word-choice when talking to the both of them.

She smiled; she could tap-dance around words like nothing. She couldn't wait.

III

"So what have you gotten from the girl so far?" Bob didn't look up from the papers he was shuffling around on his desk as he spoke to his daughter in a bored tone, as if she meant nothing. And when it came to him that was an abnormally accurate assumption.

Elle hesitated and looked at her father, adjusting nervously in the squeaky leather seat. Should she tell him what she'd seen? Though he'd grilled her before about bringing him unconfirmed information and passing it off as fact. Not to mention Elle had a slight weakness for dramatics, and a sudden scene in which she could bust the full story appealed to her—even just to see the dumbfounded look sure to be on her father's face when she did so.

"Not much yet, no. We're friends, but there really hasn't been a chance to…"

He cut her off angrily, something she found she was just _used_ to. She couldn't do anything right in his eyes. "Then you _make_ a chance! Dammit all, Elle, what's taking you so long? We need this information as quickly as possible! You know I had better things to do than allow you to spend your sweet time in high school?"

She grumbled and sat back in the chair, curling her knees more toward her torso in defense. "It's only been a few days," she said sullenly.

"That's a lot of wasted time," he said. "Get on it, Elle. No fooling around."

Elle stared at him for a moment, silently absorbing the fact that he hadn't looked at her, not once during his outburst. But finally, she sighed and left, knowing that she wasn't about to get anywhere with her father. First she needed information.

Elle sighed again as she took a seat on the black couch in the uppermost room she had claimed as hers, though not verbally. The trees swayed with the wind as the sky rapidly darkened from nearly black to something even darker. Her mood followed.

It was just that she could never do anything _right_ around here. She felt so underappreciated for her efforts as an agent—she did her best and went beyond. She was trying, but how do you just offhandedly mention burning a vampire with your lightning powers? And she needed to ease into this, get Bella to open up to her without much pushing. It was something Elle wasn't really able to figure out.

Not to say she wasn't well-versed in the sacred art of manipulation. It had been going on since Adam and Eve walked the Earth. But her talents were only limited to men, not women. She never really had a need to manipulate women.

That was when, for a fleeting, almost desperate moment, a strange idea popped into Elle's head. She had seen how close Bella and Claire were—it was like they were attached at the hip or something. Could they…?

And if so, could Elle get in there and manipulate Bella _that_ way? It seemed almost degrading to herself, to compromise her sexuality that way, but at the same time she wanted a good reputation and surely this'd be the thing to bring it.

But what if Bella and Claire were just that close and still friends? It could happen. And what about the way she saw Peter touching her, and the way he would glance at her when he carried her out of the hospital? Maybe it was just familial worry—after all, it wasn't like _she_ of all people had much experience with that emotion—but still it didn't seem like it.

Damn, she was a retard for even considering it. _Flirt_ with Bella? No, ew, and no once again.


	14. Nightmare

_AN: I'm back, my pretties! Sorry I took so long—I was writing when suddenly I get a call that my nephew swallowed a button battery and it got lodged in his esophagus. Though it was taken out and he's fine now, I wasn't able to write and barely able to reply to your reviews on my phone—and I typed a lot out to most of you, which was really hard to do, lol._

_And yet now I'm back home and here I am with the chapter! I don't think there's much to say about it though. A small climax is approaching, yay! And then the really big one…so that's how this story will go in a nutshell, lol. Small climax then big one. Alright, enough babble. I do wanna, really quick, thank all of you for reviewing! We've reached and surpassed the fifty mark! I love you all and really appreciate the feedback!_

_Also, I apologize for the super short chapter. It was sort of a…bridge to later events, I guess you could call it. There will be more soon! :D_

_Immolation Chapter 13: Nightmare_

"_Sometimes dreams can hold the future and you won't even realize it until too late…"_

_It was windy—so much so that my hair whipped my face and stung my chapped, tear-ridden cheeks. Overwhelming sadness made my chest nearly collapse in on itself, and my limbs felt so amazingly heavy. I looked around myself, snuffling, trying to find some sort of salvation or answer._

_What I found was even better. Peter—immediately all the weight on me lifted and I could breathe regularly. He was smiling and looking at me with those same intense eyes, but unlike every other time I saw him I could actually decipher his thoughts and emotions. It was obvious—love. Not familial love, not even a so-called 'friendly' love, but a passionate want and I returned it._

_His eyes locked with mine. Mine with his. Everything else stilled—the wind didn't matter, nor the sand or the strangely orange and black sky. I was with Peter and it was so blatantly obvious that he felt for me…and did I feel for him?_

_Obviously. The way my heart seemed to palpitate and stutter and my palms moistened—my mouth and throat were dry and my eyes stung with a mix of tears from both the wind and the happiness. No second guessing, no insecurities. Peter was here. With me and only me._

_I smiled back at him, my emotions and the burning in my nose making it waver and shake. My fingers twitched and ached to touch him, my breastbone on fire as my heart tried to break right through it. Peter—he was all I could think about. I went to call out to him._

_But my mouth would not move._

_He continued to smile serenely at me, his eyes filled with that love and adoration. They sparkled with glee and excitement. I went to call his name again._

_But no sound was made, nor heard._

_Panic rose in a sharp, painful wave and flooded my mind, scattering my once happy thoughts. But I calmed myself quickly by taking a deep breath—I'd merely go to him and let my actions speak for themselves. I glanced at his lips and smiled once again, relief a cool ocean breeze to my heart as it slowed._

_I stepped forward. But he didn't come closer. No, that wasn't right; I merely didn't move. I went to step forward again, but nothing happened—something weighed me down, wrapping around my legs in an icy grip._

_Then I sensed something. I wasn't sure how I knew that silent thing was there, but immediately I turned to see Elle. She smiled and her hands were glowing blue as she walked up to me. I meant to thank her, ask her for help, but she didn't spare me a glance. No, she had only eyes for Peter—_my_ Peter—as she surpassed me and strutted to him. His arms opened. She went to him. They weren't far apart._

_Panic stabbed through my chest and gripped my heart in an iron fist yet again. Why couldn't I go to him, show him my affection? What was _wrong_ with me?_

_I looked down and screamed silently at what I saw there._

_Pale hands of granite were wrapped around my ankles, the strangely warped faces of those I never wished to see again looking sadly up at me with amber eyes. But one stuck out, her eyes orange-tinted and pained._

_Claire._

_I shrieked again, though it wasn't heard by anyone as another marble hand slipped over my mouth. All I could see after that was fiery curls of red._

I shot up from the bed and Claire looked over at me—Peter burst in the door looking around the room wildly. Both of them found nothing to be wrong and simply stared at me with varied levels of annoyance and curiosity. I felt a blush rise to my cheeks as I whispered, "Bad dream."

Claire rolled her eyes and Peter shifted, letting out a breath. "Are you okay now?"

I nodded. He grumbled something and left, shutting off the hall light. Claire gave me one last look and asked permission to go back to sleep. I told her that I needed to go home so I wouldn't wake them up again, because I had the feeling that all that awaited me was more horrors.

So I stayed in the pajamas I had, grabbed the dirty-clothes-bag I kept over here, and pulled on my jacket as I left. The rain was frigid as it beat down on my hair and I shivered, my breath expelled in a puff of white mist.

I walked quickly to the truck and got in, grabbed the keys from the glove-box where Peter had put them, and started the car. One good thing about this old hunk of metal was that the heater was fully functional—and then some. In no time a constant blast of heat hit and relaxed me and I merely closed my eyes as my thoughts began to drift to earlier today.

We had, in fact, gone to the Pablo's Palace that Ms. Mallory had spoken about, but in the end the bartender told us that he hadn't seen Jason in over seventeen years and he hadn't been back since. So we left, our spirits most definitely dampened.

Claire was the most confident that we would be able to find him and stop him from using his powers the way Noah had told us he had—in a manipulative, self-serving way. Noah had also warned us that the man was pretty much without a conscience nowadays and the moment he found out our intentions were to bring him back to the Company we would become an obstacle and our deaths would merely be collateral damage. That made me not so eager to find the man.

But I had to help Peter and Claire as much as I could—quickly they were becoming family and I would never let them down, not when they already did so much for me. They were my crutch in the real world and without them I'd fall.

I wasn't sure when I had become such a dependent person. I remember leaving Phoenix self-reliant and in no need of help whatsoever. Now I found that if I were left completely alone I simply wouldn't be able to function. When had that happened?

And that made me snap back into reality, the realization that I was pathetic. The rain pattered on the window and Peter and Claire's house sat in front of me, the dark night giving it an eerie glow from whatever moon peeked from behind the clouds.

I analyzed every detail of the house I was in more than my very own. That was just sad, that fact—I ignored my _real_ family as opposed to the people who merely made me feel whole again. But I should be able to feel whole on my own, not with help.

That was when I made the decision.

III

Matt Parkman sighed and pulled into a motel, nicer than all the ones he had stayed in on the way here. He looked back at Molly who, under full blast of the heater, had fallen asleep nearly instantaneously and was now softly snoring, her neck bent at an awkward angle as her cheek flattened on the glass of the window.

Next to her was that dreaded painting. He glanced at it again and winced at the horror-filled images he saw there. Shaking his head and averting his gaze, he looked back to Molly. He would leave the painting behind for fear of getting it wet—but Molly was a rather heavy sleeper. So he took off his jacket as he got out of the car and went around, opening the door and grabbing her shoulder to keep her from falling out.

He set his jacket on her and hefted her up into his arms, shutting the car door with his toe and walking into the motel to check in. A friendly looking woman helped him after cooing at a still asleep Molly.

When he was settled into the room, Molly on the bed across from his, he could only fold his hands beneath his head and think. _I've made it, finally. But now the task is to find Peter. And how do I go about doing that in a town I've never heard of before? At least there aren't many people around…but it's pretty spread out for such a small town. Not to mention the fact that I have no idea how far in the future any of that occurs and he may not even be here yet. But then again, why would he come here if it wasn't him that I saw shoot off toward the east? Who comes to such a small town willingly?_

_I could always ask Molly…but she's been talking about the man that scares her every time she tries to use her powers, and I don't wanna force her to do anything she doesn't want to. Which means we're doing it the old fashioned way._

_Just great._

He punched his pillow as he rolled over and stared out the small window. He hadn't the slightest clue what to do now but search for him, which could be a bust if he wasn't lucky. But that would have to be tomorrow, he decided. His eyes slowly drifted closed and he fell into an uneasy sleep.

III

D.L. and Micah had taken his rental car—which, admittedly, he couldn't afford, but some quick phasing through a few wallets had made it possible—and set off toward Seattle once again to find Jessica, because he now had a lead on where her local hangout would be and he figured having Micah near would be bait to get her out of the club—not to mention that slimy, dirty hotel with that man that just reeked of child molester was not the kind of place he wanted to leave his son all alone in.

So he told Micah to stay in the car and promptly locked the doors as he ran into the bar; and he saw her immediately. She was dancing provocatively with another man, grinding against him and raising her hands above her head as she moved to the music. She was facing the door but her eyes were closed, so she didn't see him—which was probably good, because he had the feeling she'd try to run if he wasn't there to keep her from doing so.

He walked over and put his hand on her wrist—her eyes snapped open and the man she was with looked up at him with black, angry eyes that contrasted abnormally with his light hair and extremely pale skin. She smirked at him.

"Come to ruin my fun?"

"Let's go, Jessica." She let out a sharp laugh at his words.

"Jessica's gone, Baby."

He shook his head angrily and the man began to make a fuss, but D.L. merely ignored him as he began to drag his wife with him—whoever she was this time. "Then who the hell—?"

"The name's Gina," she cut him off, trying to wiggle out of his grip, but he wasn't about to let her go. "And I'm not leaving," she said defiantly.

He turned and began to plead with the Niki he knew was in there, give her the strength to break free from this 'Gina's' hold. "C'mon, baby. You gotta take control again, Niki."

She shook her head, but looked at him differently—as if she was fighting a battle within her. "Not today, hun."

"Please, Niki, you gotta get out. I've got Micah in the car and we've been looking all over for you."

She stared at him for a moment, but her eyes finally began to soften, tears filling them and spilling over. "D.L., I'm so sorry."

He sighed and wearily put his jacket around her shoulders, looking around. The man she was with was staring, an angry expression on his face as he made his way toward them. He began to lead her away, not responding.

They got out to the car and were about to enter it—Micah bounced excitedly upon seeing his mom—when D.L. got slammed into the door.

Quickly, he spun around and saw the man from the bar, his black eyes full of anger and clouded with a look that could kill—or a look that said he planned to. But what D.L. couldn't understand was how a man so small and thin could pack so much strength as to push him into the car. Though he did have the element of surprise on his side.

D.L. was so tired and so confused, and everything happened too fast for him to keep a perfect record of what went on. The man had grabbed him by the collar and said something about a meal, raising him high into the air. He heard Niki scream and Micah pound on the windows, but suddenly everything stopped.

He was on the ground and his head was pounding. Niki lifted him and he shook his head, looking around to see the man gone, as if he were never there. No shady figure disappearing into the shadows, no car taking off. He was simply gone.

Deciding to put it out of his mind, he turned around.

But that was when he realized that, like the man, Micah was nowhere to be found.

III

Victoria wasn't sure what it was that had compelled her when she acted so out of character. Maybe it was because his blood had smelled so like James's before she changed him—maybe it was the feeling she got, that natural instinct for talent that she had been channeling as of late in order to find the best for her army. Whatever had made her act so rashly continued to take effect as the child was limp in her arms, unconscious.

She knew the rules of the vampire world—never to expose oneself and never to change a child under eight years of age. And yet she hadn't the slightest clue this child's age and she was running a high risk by grabbing him. But there was an impulse deep within her—she hadn't paid attention to Riley or the black man he was about to feed from or even the screaming woman that could attract attention. She only smelled the fear in that sweet blood and knew immediately that she needed to save him.

She could even possibly blame it on dormant maternal instincts flaring to life at the wrong time. All she knew was that she had whispered Riley's name, snapping him out of his angry hunger and grabbed both he and the child at the speed of light, making off before either panicked human could realize what had happened. A knock on the head later and here she was, jogging toward her hide-out, the boy's curly black hair whipping his face as he shivered against the wind. He was precious somehow—not only of the cute kind of variety, but something valuable to her. He would aid her in some way; she just needed to find out how.

Finally, like a delayed reaction, the first scream erupted from his lips.

III-_ The next day, Claire and Peter's residence _–III

Claire looked up from her cereal to Peter, who was looking out the window with a strange expression on his face. She knew now was the perfect time to approach the subject of Bella, but she really wasn't sure how. She couldn't right out ask if he had feelings for her, he'd deny it. But at the same time beating around the bush could also be tricky and make him get suspicious. She needed to be very careful.

"So," she began, twirling her spoon in the milk and soggy bits of chocolate. He looked up. "Thanks a bunch for saving Bella yesterday. If something happened to her it'd be really bad."

She knew her wording was atrocious, but she plowed through it and looked up at him. "No problem—I wouldn't be able to handle it if Bella had been…or you, or anyone I know…" he trailed off in an almost indecisive tone…but there was a pause before he mentioned anyone but Bella…was that a sign? She wasn't sure.

"Bella's really special to me, really, it was a big deal," she decided to say, hoping he'd somehow manage to catch on that she wanted to explore his thoughts on said girl. He didn't, obviously.

"I know." A nod. She nearly rolled her eyes, _men, so difficult!_

"Speaking of Bella…" she decided to dive in as delicately as possible. Is_ it possible to dive in delicately? I wonder… But that's a mystery for another day. _"I've noticed you two don't hang out so much. Do you not like her?"

He shook his head with a small grin that wasn't entirely for her. "Of course I like her, Claire. I just work a lot, remember?"

_He said he likes her! But he didn't say he liked her any more than I implied…which could go either way…crap. _How_ do you like her Peter, _how_?_

"I dunno," she tried. "I feel like you could make more of an effort." She nodded enthusiastically to accentuate her point.

His mouth dropped open. "I'm civil to her and she's here practically every day—we hung out when you were gone! Claire, I think I do try."

_They hung out! Could it be…? And what if it is? Would I be okay with it? _"So you're just civil—and that's where it ends? I'm more than civil to even my enemies, Peter."

He sighed, "Well, obviously I'm more than civil to her but—you get the point, Claire."

She mimicked his sigh with one of her own, knowing that she wasn't getting anywhere, leaned her head on her hand and jabbed her spoon into her bowl. "I miss her cooking."


	15. Swords

_AN: YAY! THIS IS THE MAJOR PLOT-TURNER I'VE BEEN TALKING ABOUT! WHOOT! IT'S HERE!_

_Ahem…anyway…this isn't my best chapter, admittedly. Gah, I just think it's kinda corny and slightly to majorly OOC. But it's the best I've got. And I've been so excited to get this one out there because…well, it changes things. In a good and bad way. Muahaha._

_But yes, here it is. Thanks again for all your reviews—I will reply to them ASAP, it's just that FF is being a dingus (love that word) and not letting me reply. It'll tell me there's an error blah blah blah try again later. So I will get to you soon, I promise!_

_Anywho, I'd like to say Victoria's reasoning is uncertain, but explained a bit more below. I hope you like the chapter, because I did work hard on it. _

_And this is the best I put out—how sad. :'(_

_Oh, by the way, I don't own On Fire by Switchfoot, Savin' Me by Nickelback, or Yankee Doodle by…uh…yeah, I don't own them. Just wanna make sure that's out there. :D_

_Immolation Chapter 14: Swords_

"_And there are always times when you just don't know what to say…"_

"Why did you grab the boy? And why did you bite him?"

Riley looked almost angry as he gazed at Victoria, but truthfully, he was worried. Having never met nor seen the Volturi, the stories she had told him of seemed scarier than they probably were—he didn't want to die for a mere child.

"I…don't know," she whispered softly, which was quite unlike her. She gazed down at the child with an emotion akin to discomfort. "I could just…sense that he was special. I knew it somehow. Trust me," she snapped at him in the end, sending him a glare that made him think twice about speaking and walk out of the room.

She looked down at the boy and he whimpered, letting out yet another scream. What _had_ driven her to taking him? It was an unnecessary risk she really, in her current situation, didn't need to take. But there was something she could just feel from him—was this an unexplored aspect to her heightened instincts? Normally they just served her well in getting out of trouble, but this time there was a sixth sense of sorts, telling her to take him, that he would aid her.

And she was a wild, free vampire. More advanced than a human and yet closer to an animal—it was hard to resist her instincts as it was, and when the call was that strong…she no longer controlled her body. She just _did_.

He screamed again and she winced. It was loud and obnoxious, but it was just beginning.

III

Today was still a school day, so I had to get up and face Claire even though I had a feeling my will would crumble. I sighed and ran my brush through my hair, looking into the mirror with disdain. I was just disgusted with the fact that I didn't even know who I was anymore. It all started with _him_. He had sheltered me and smothered me and I had allowed him to slowly cut down my identity until without another I didn't know who I was. That was why his leaving was so painful and still was—he didn't just take himself, he took _me _too. And I couldn't cope.

Then Claire and Peter came along and made me simultaneously weaker and stronger. I knew now my major flaw, but I had no idea how to fix it. And not only that, but they were the ones I relied on most—I couldn't see me without Claire as my best friend, or even without Peter as a confidante. Sure, I'd always been a blend-in kind of person, but not to this point. I disgusted myself.

Dressed and ready, I gave myself a pep-talk on the way to school…"Relax, Bella. Just distance yourself from Claire and Peter slowly and…who am I kidding? I won't be able to do this…no, I've gotta. I need to find out who I am—me alone, not me and Claire. Not me and Peter…" _Well, that has a bit of a ring to it, eh? Bella and Peter, Peter and Bella…traitorous thoughts!_

I pulled into the parking lot and rested my head on the wheel. _What a fat lot of good this did me. Way to throw in the crush aspect, Bella. I thought you couldn't get any more hopeless, but way to surprise us all. Pat yourself on the back why don't you?_

I sighed and dragged my book bag out of the car and Claire met me immediately. "Hey Bella. You alright? You don't look so good. Like, you're really pale and…"

I smiled at her. "I'm fine. But I'm really running late and need to ask the teacher a question, so…" She nodded in understanding.

"I'll get out of your hair. See ya!" And then she walked off to her part of the building. _Well, that was slightly easier than I expected it to be._

"Bella, hey," Elle said, walking over to me. I gave her my best smile.

"Hey Elle. How are you?"

She nodded, "I'm fine, I'm fine. But hey, I've got a few questions to ask you…"

I began walking toward the school building and she fell into step next to me. "Yeah?"

She whipped out a piece of paper and unfolded it. Her eyes were trained on my face as a huge smile broke onto her face. "You may not have guessed, but I'm a _huge _vampire enthusiast." I couldn't help but take in a sharp breath as my eyes stung slightly.

I pushed away my memories and quickly composed myself. "I didn't know."

She scrutinized me. "Yeah, well…I found a cool book about them is all, and I was wondering if you liked them." _Oh I've more than liked them. And they're more than fairytales…not that I could ever tell you that._

"Oh, I've never really been a fan," I lied, turning my face away to hide my blush. Thankfully, we had reached the doors, so I held open them and hid behind the metal, allowing her to get swept away into the oncoming crowd. Because I couldn't place it, but there was something like _suspicion _on her face, and maybe I was just paranoid—okay, I definitely was paranoid, but still. I wasn't delusional…was I?

I shook my head and walked in after the group of kids at the end and Elle was standing there, her arms crossed. She smirked at me. "Any specific reason vampires seem to be a sore spot for you?"

I shook my head. "No…I was just scared of them as a little kid. But then I realized they aren't real." She paused and I could tell she wanted to say something, but didn't. Instead we began to walk. I had all the books I needed and apparently so did she, so we passed up our lockers. Though we had time, and our pace was not a fast one—which I would be fine with me if she stopped questioning me about vampires.

"So Bella. Wanna hang out today?" she asked, and there was an odd tone to her voice. It was something I hadn't heard from her…was that hope or excitement of some sort? I was delusional, I suppose, because Elle always kept it cool and a constant cold shoulder. I looked over at her.

_This is the excuse I need…I can make other friends besides Claire and Peter…though I need to go over there tonight because of Jason…_ "I'm sorry Elle. I have other plans. How about tomorrow?"

She looked at the floor briefly but then smiled again, "Yeah, whatever. I was just wondering, you know, because we don't see each other much."

I turned the corner and opened the door to the classroom. "That's…really nice, Elle." I didn't have anything else to say, so we walked to our seats and the silence was, dare I say it, comfortable.

III

School passed quickly and soon I was walking out the door. I saw Claire ahead of me, but she must not have seen me. She just went over to her car and unlocked it. I caught up to her. "Hey, Claire. So are we going to your house today?"

"Oh, so you wanna go to my house, huh?" She didn't sound like a happy camper and it was confirmed as she rounded on me.

"Well…we kind of have to catch the bad guy," I pointed out dumbly.

"Oh, so that's all it is, huh, catching the bad guy? Bella, what is _up _with you today? You practically ignored me all day. I kept trying to talk to you but you weren't really listening. You'd just make up some dumb excuse." She crossed her arms angrily.

"I…" I could share my thoughts with Claire, couldn't I? That was what best friends were for, to listen, right? And if it made her not mad at me anymore, well, I'd go for it. "I'm so sorry Claire, it's just…I'm pathetic."

Her eyes softened only slightly. "What do you mean?"

"I mean…I've become like, dependent on you guys," I gushed. "My crush on Peter coupled with the fact that you're like a sister to me…and I'm like, the most dependent person on earth and…and the thought of you guys leaving terrifies me…so I thought if I distanced myself from you it'd go away and I'd be me again." _Well, that sounded better in my head._

She sighed. "Bella, you're really not that dependent."

I furrowed my brows. "Are you kidding? I'm at your house all the time and always hanging out with you."

She rolled her eyes. "Get in the car, Bella."

"But my truck—"

"We'll get it. And Bella, you don't see us complaining when you come over. We like you, you know."

"I…I know…but Claire." I hardened my face. This was another reason—I was too much of a pushover. I needed to stand up for myself at least once in a millennia. "I need to do this. For myself."

The look on her face was a stunned one. I sighed… "When this Jason thing blows over, I need to take some time off." She smiled.

"Don't worry Bella. I understand…I guess I just didn't think you felt that way. Really, we like having you over so often. I really don't have anyone to talk to."

"You have Peter, you know." I walked over to my side of the car and got in.

She rolled her eyes. "Yeah…and don't get me wrong, I love Peter, but it's weird talking to him."

"Why?"

She sighed and glanced behind her, pulling out of the lot. "It's just…I used to have a crush on him. Before I knew he was blood. And Bella, a crush on Peter is a hard one to shake. Sorry I'm mentioning this now."

I gaped at her. "Do you…do you still?"

She stopped, staring into space for a moment, the car stopping with her. "I…don't think so. No. I love him like an uncle, like I'm supposed to, but no. It was more like the 'oh, you saved my life!' type thing. But anyway, this is why it's kind of hard to talk to him—that and unless we have something prominent to talk about, I really don't know what to say."

I continued to gape. "But…have you ever tried? Peter has to be the most interesting, hilarious person on earth! I mean, his life is like a comic book…"

She giggled. "Yeah, I believe it." But then she quickly changed the subject. "Anyway, while we're talking about Peter and crushes." She wiggled her eyebrows before continuing—I sunk into my seat. "What type of crush do you have on him? Like an 'oh, it's just a crush' but it's really more, or the 'eh, I've got a crush on him…ooh, a hot guy over there!' crush or a 'oh, I think I'm falling for him' crush or the weird, 'I've got a clipping of his hair! Come smell it!' creepy crush?"

I must say, I'd never heard anything so ridiculous. But it was to the point where I believed it, and I could only stare at her. Finally my brain caught up and forced my mouth to say something. "What?"

She rolled her eyes. "You're smart, Bella. You know what I'm saying."

_How far do my affections go? Farther than I'd like to admit—another flaw. I fall for a guy in milliseconds. Look where that gets me. _"It's just a crush."

She smiled. "The 'it's just a crush but secretly more' kind?"

"_No_," I snapped. "The 'I wish for once you would just take my words at face value' kind."

She stuck her tongue out at me. "It's just that I _do _pay attention to more than your murder of fashion—seriously Bella, skirts won't bite—"

I grumbled, "Skirts are the enemy Claire, end of discussion." _Please get distracted, please get distracted…_

She sent me a playful glare. In it, her thoughts were obvious. I could almost hear her mentally say them. _Yeah, nice try. _"_Anyway,_ I know you. And you jump into things—you're an all or nothing type. So is this all, or is this nothing?"

I paused. "Nothing. I've told you Claire. It's nothing."

She sighed. "Fine. I'll get you to tell me the truth eventually."

I looked over at her. "Why do you _want_ me to like him that way? Wouldn't it weird you out—your best friend liking your uncle?"

She hesitated and I could sense that she was really thinking about it, trying to give me an honest answer. _She gives you an honest answer and yet you deprive her of one. Nice, Bella. Real smooth and best friend like._ "Well…at first, I guess it'd be weird. But I mean, it's hard to judge because we're not normal and neither is our situation. We're a part of a world of special people with all kinds of spectacular powers—not to mention who knows what else…"

A moment of guilt washed over me. _I know what else._ I couldn't explain it, but I felt as if I was lying to them by never mentioning the vampire part of my life. I was just worried that they were going to call me crazy and run to the other end of the country—if not the earth. And yet, at the same time, after all they had told me they couldn't just react so rashly, could they? And yet in my life time, people's hypocrisy exceeded no bounds. _But these are my friends! They've accepted me so far—which is a feat. What's one little vampire…or seven?_ But I couldn't bring myself to say anything as she continued.

"…so I have to remember that…and you can't help who you love. I'd be a little weirded out, but I'd get over it."

"That's…cool. I'm glad you wouldn't be mad," I said finally.

She nodded absently. We pulled up to the house and she parked. As we walked in, we heard the news. We looked over and saw Peter staring at the TV intently.

The woman was interviewing a policeman outside what seemed to be a break-in at a…gun shop? Not good. "…all the glass fell on the outside of the shop, like they were inside then jumped out…but the weirdest thing is all the tapes were removed from the security cameras. Although there's no evidence that a ladder was used and no fingerprints on anything. We really don't know how no one saw it, as the whole operation had to have taken some time…"

He continued, but Peter spoke. "It has to be Jason Mallory. There's no other explanation."

I furrowed my brows. "That would make sense…he could just bring the guns to himself, breaking the glass in the process…same goes for the security tapes…"

"Exactly."

"Where is this?" I asked, pointing to the television.

"Seattle. He's getting supplies together for something…I guess he's expecting the Company."

Claire's face was a mask of anger. "Then that's what we'll give him."

That was when the doorbell rang.

III

I looked at Peter with concentration, but it was hard to do with him—I wasn't sure why.

We had decided to practice my power after Noah had come along and dragged Claire away from us. He had said that every weekend he would be here and apparently he wasn't lying. She had had to do the fastest packing ever—or well, I had. Noah wasn't about to let her out of his sight, and I had offered to take care of it.

In no time they were zooming away in a nice-looking car, leaving me here with Peter. He had decided that Jason obviously works at night, so we would practice until the sun fell. Well, it wasn't falling fast enough.

"What's the problem, Bella? It worked with Claire…what's the difference?"

I sighed. "Maybe…well, maybe you're more powerful and harder to suppress?"

He grumbled. "I'm not sure. Was there a different method when you did it to Claire?"

I looked skyward as I went over our procedures. "I'd take a deep breath, grab her hand, then…"

"That's it!" he interjected, before reaching over and grasping my hands in his. I gulped, my eyes darting from our hands to his face.

I tried to speak but it came out as a mere squeak. I cleared my throat before trying again—if he was going to hold my hands, we'd be two steps behind. "I…uh, here." Gently I pulled my hands from his and they hung in the air as I tried to think of a safe way to touch him without feeling like I was getting scorched. _How is he so warm, I wonder?_

Finally I resigned myself and slowly put my hands on either side of his face. He jumped at first but relaxed, his head tilted downward only slightly as he leaned, allowing me to not have to stretch to keep my hands in their current position. He looked at me with an intensity I recognized and hated…_way to distract me, Peter. Damn you and your eyes…_

I let out a breath. "Okay." And this time it was, admittedly, a little easier to force my shield over to him. It tried to recoil when it came into contact with him, but I forced it forward. Though it was a strain. I felt my brow furrow and I bit down on my lip, leaning forward to try and will it to go.

It snapped back around me like a rubber band.

I sighed and closed my eyes. _Don't get so distracted, Bella! _I opened them again and our gazes locked as I tried to push my shield to him, with better results, but I still didn't get it to him.

I tried a third time, and a fourth, but it wasn't until my seventh try I finally got it to wrap around his mind for a brief amount of time. But it was when he gasped and jarred from my grip it snapped back to its relaxed position around my mind, rippling like warm water.

"What's wrong?"

He looked at me intently. "I think I just…read your mind."

I felt my whole body stiffen and tense. _You what? No! You're not supposed to hear what goes on in here! Get out!_

But apparently he already was out, because he didn't respond in any visible way. Hesitantly, I spoke. "What…what did you hear?"

"Not much," he admitted. "You were happy we finally did it. Then when I pulled away it was gone."

I let out a huge breath of relief. _Okay…so he didn't hear anything incriminating, which is good. Apparently he only hears my thoughts when my shield is around him? Strange._

"Weird," I said finally.

"Yeah," he agreed. I glanced up at the clock, but it didn't look late enough yet.

"So…" I began. But I didn't know what to say.

"I guess we keep trying?"

"Sure," I responded. He grabbed my hands and put them on either side of his face, and I took a deep breath. _Please don't touch me. I might freak out and turn into a puddle. _Then_ where would we be?_

"Go." So I tried, pushing my shield toward him. It was rather easy and I got it around his mind, before carefully blanking my own. I tried my best to not focus on the burn of his skin or the way he made me feel—though I wasn't doing a good job. I nearly slipped three times before trying to sing a song. _You're on fire when he's near you; you're on fire when he speaks…not a good choice._ _Prison gates won't open up for me; on these hands and knees I'm crawlin'; oh, I reach for you…oh dammit Bella…Yankee Doodle went to town, riding on a pony…_

He smiled. "That's definitely an interesting choice. Though I like the other two better." My shield snapped back—whether I called it back or I really just didn't have it in me to hold it up any more, I wasn't sure.

"Yeah, well, it's my mind," I grumbled. "No one asked you to read it."

He grinned at me and I brought my hands back to myself, resting them in my lap and ignoring the way they tingled. "Uh-huh. You loved it."

I rolled my eyes. "Says mister ego." I stuck my tongue out at him—a habit I think I picked up from Claire—and slapped him lightly on the shoulder.

"Ouch, Bella. That one hurt."

I rolled my eyes again. _At least it didn't set you on fire._ "You'll get over it. Wanna try again?"

He nodded. I didn't bring my hands to his face, instead trying it without my metaphorical training wheels. He looked confused and his question brought me from my concentrated state. "Are you gonna start?"

I shrugged. "I did. I don't think I'd be much help if I have to touch the bad guy in order to block him."

He nodded, allowing me to start again. My shield was hard to work with when it had no direct path, but I managed to work it out toward Peter. It was a hard game of tug of war, but I managed to finally get it around his mind. _Can you hear me?_

"Yeah."

_Wow. That's actually really cool._

He smiled, "I guess it can be."

_But I mean…you can hear what I'm thinking! Which could be a disadvantage, I suppose…_ I brought my shield back to myself and finished my thought aloud. "I mean, you could find serious blackmail material in there." _Or just find a little secret or two that'll send you running. Not preferable._

"Yeah, Bella, you're the least guilty person I know," he laughed. "What could you have done?" _I could have possibly started to like you more than I should…I could have fallen for an immortal, blood-sucking creature…does that count? I think so._

I shrugged again, glancing at the clock…_again_. _Seven is reasonable, right? _"Do you think we should set off now?"

He sighed and looked at the clock also. "I think so, yeah. But won't Claire be made that we don't wait for her? She looked kind of excited about catching this guy."

I nodded. "Yeah…but he might do who knows what if we wait. But it's up to you," I rushed.

He stood up. "You're right. We should go." He held out his hand and I took it so as to not appear rude, although it tingled. _Always…stupid hormones…perfect Peter Petrelli…gah!_

I followed him out the door and we drove in a comfortable silence. It wasn't long until we had made it out to the shop where there was yellow tape and a few police officers wandering around. Though they all wore the same confused expression.

Peter pulled up to one of them, and he immediately came over. "Sir, I'm going to have to ask you to—"

Peter explained quickly. "I'd just like to know around what time this happened."

The officer scratched his chin. "We aren't sure, but we're guessing around eight or nine, right after the shop closed. Now, if that's all…"

"Thank you," Peter said, and we pulled away slowly.

I looked over at the clock and it was seven thirty. "So how are we going to find him?"

Peter sighed. "He's obviously going for weapons…so we'll just have to be on the lookout for those types of shops."

"Okay…" I began hesitantly, scanning the area for any suspicious activity. "But do you even know what he looks like?"

"Yeah," he pulled out an envelope. "Noah gave me these pictures." I took the envelope from him and opened it. "They're the most recent ones they have," he said.

In each there was a tall, lanky man with a buzz cut and five o'clock shadow. He had an uncharacteristically pretty face—as if he were meant to be a girl. He looked almost exactly like Lauren, which was odd, because upon meeting Lauren's mother I was sure they were exactly alike. I shook the thought away.

Hours passed. We drove through the area, but didn't see Jason Mallory or any kind of scene that suggested he was near. It was going on eleven and my eyes began to drift closed with boredom. We had exchanged random banter throughout the night, but I had quit after I was sure he was going to make me lean over and kiss him—Peter was just so funny and interesting. Everything he said and did left me hanging, waiting for more.

I had finally just said I was tired and looked out the opposite window, and my lie was starting to become a truth. That was, until Peter jarred me from my relaxed state.

"Bella, look!" I followed to where he was gesturing to and saw a man in a black hoodie. He had his hands in his pockets, but in front of him was a broken window, and out of it came…swords? By themselves they flew, gathering in the open air around him.

_Yep, he's our guy._

I wasn't fully awake as I got out of the car. Peter followed and latched onto my arm. "Bella, be careful," he whispered.

I spoke in a hushed tone back to him. "We'll catch him by surprise. But first let me block him."

His pause seemed to last forever, but finally he nodded. He let go of me and we walked closer. I pulled on my shield and with each step my heart's pace quickened as the situation really began to set in.

_This man doesn't care if we live or die, as long as he remains free…okay, relax Bella. Yeah, okay, that's easy. Take a deep breath…_

We were mere feet from him and Peter tensed. I was already stiff, trying to force my shield to move. Though the quickly creeping fear that seemed to squeeze my insides with ice was making it difficult.

Peter made a small motion to tell me to hurry. I bit my lip and closed my eyes. _Come on, come on…_

Metal clattered. I snapped my eyes open to see the swords, one by one, falling to the ground. I looked at Peter in astonishment and they began to lift again—I pushed forward. They fell.

The man whipped around, panicked, and his face wasn't visible in the darkness. But I knew he had spotted us when he grew to his full height and stilled. Peter wavered, unsure of what to do when someone as dangerous as this Jason Mallory seemed to be was only feet from us.

That was when it happened, so suddenly.

I was on the ground, something warm and heavy on top of me. It jumped away but I felt my shield ricochet in my surprise—I cried out, I wasn't blocking him anymore. The world tilted and I felt warmth on my temple—but I had no time for that. I jumped up and swayed, but regained myself in time to see the swords rise into the air again.

I gasped as one went sailing for Peter, who was still looking at me, and paying it no attention.


	16. Bella's Death

_AN: Oh yeah, I did something different—there's a continuation of the quote at the bottom, 'kay?_

_And yes, throughout this whole chapter I was trying to create suspense. And muahaha, I hope I'm successful. Ahem, anyway, it's short, yes. Extremely. But…well, I don't think you'll be so mad anymore once you read it. ;)_

_I've had this chapter written and edited and edited and edited (you get where this is going) since the second chapter, so I'm really excited to put it up! I really hope you guys like it because if there's a chapter I'd be really sad you picked on, it'd be this one. This one is my weakness._

_But it's here. And it's staying._

_Even though I'm not that proud *sigh*. I hope you like, though._

_And like I said, I'll officially respond to reviews when FF lets me. Until then, to sally94: don't worry, he's coming, I promise! ;)_

_And thanks to everyone who's reviewed! You've made me so very happy! :D_

_So I hope this chapter does the same for you._

_(Lol, I know the title isn't very reassuring)_

_Immolation Chapter 15: Bella's Death_

_"Sometimes we act rashly—stupidly, even…and sometimes it works out…others, well, it doesn't."_

Everything moved in slow motion while my mind went at light speed. I knew that I didn't have time to block him and the momentum of the sword would get to Peter anyway. And I knew Peter, at this point, wouldn't have time to move away.

So I just…reacted.

III

D.L. and Niki had been everywhere, all over town. They had checked the slums, downtown, the surrounding smaller cities. But neither Micah nor his kidnapper were found. Niki was losing hope and so was he—their little boy was nowhere. He could barely take it anymore.

They slept on separate beds in the hotel, didn't speak much throughout the whole day. There was a gap growing between them where Micah should have been—and yet in it there was also a bond.

Just when he was starting to break down he would talk them back up into high spirits, telling her that surely Micah had run off in fear and was okay. They just needed to keep searching.

But he wasn't so sure.

Neither was she.

III

Mohinder's flight had been delayed, but finally he was on his way to Seattle and then to Forks. He would find Peter and hopefully, in the process, find Sylar. And maybe he could even get to that girl, because he had a feeling she was a prominent role in this particular story.

Everything had been put on hold—his speeches, his and Noah's plans. He had vaguely described the painting to Noah, but he was worried the man would go overboard and start doing anything possible to find out what was going on. And he knew that Peter wouldn't want attention—so he was going it alone, only telling Noah that he had a mission to do with the future.

He thanked the heavens above that Noah seemed preoccupied with something else. He had asked but only received a name—Jason Mallory. And then some babble about his daughter's safety—Mohinder hadn't been sure what exactly Noah had been talking about, but he hadn't been too deep in his questioning.

So now all he could do was wait out the flight.

III

Victoria grimaced. She had been living a happy, quiet life in Maine, and now look what had happened. She looked around the office she had been brought to, and through a door stepped Bob himself. He held something she could barely see in his hands.

"Hello Victoria," he said almost politely. She nodded curtly in the same false pretense—she had just wanted to be left alone, and now she was being brought into this mess again.

He handed her a baggy, and in it was what looked to be ashes. She gave him a confused frown. "What's this?"

"A vampire's ashes. I've called you to examine them."

She started to abruptly protest, deciding to ignore the absurdity of his last statement, "Why me? Couldn't you have found someone else or—"

"Just get to it," he snapped, before turning on his heel and leaving the small laboratory without another word. She sighed angrily, rubbing her temples, before opening her eyes and glancing at a nearby microscope. Resigned, she took a sample of the ashes and put them under, focusing the lens.

She couldn't believe what she saw.

III

I lunged forward faster than I had originally thought my body could go. I felt the impact, the searing pain—but more so, I felt accomplished as I hit the ground. There was a moment of silence—the whole world seemed to still beneath me as I absorbed what had happened.

_Peter is safe…he's okay…that's all that matters._

Tears welled in my eyes as the burning ripping pain traveled up and down my torso. Peter broke the world's silence with a shout. "_Bella!_"

I felt his arms and saw his face—he picked me up and I hissed as the sword was jostled, making lightning bolts of pain arch through my body. I heard the slapping of sneakers against pavement and my head conveniently flopped to the side—I saw a watery shadow, but knew it was the fleeing form of Jason Mallory.

"Peter…he's…" I tried to tell him, but each breath and word was killing me.

I looked up at him and was unable to register the look in his eyes—they were like my own…filled with tears. What could that mean? "Bella…"

I coughed painfully, and again a moment of clarity hit me like a ray of sunshine, illuminating all it touched. I had jumped in front of the sword in order to save Peter and I had done just that—but now I was dying, I just knew it.

"Bella, no," he said, and he sounded almost angry. "That was the stupidest thing I've ever seen! How could you risk your life like that?" he scolded. I smiled.

"For yours? It…" I paused and winced as a wave of pain washed up my torso and down my limbs, "it was a good choice."

"What? No, how could you say that?" he continued. I sighed.

"Peter, you…you'll do great things and save the world. So I did my part by keeping you alive."

"I could have healed, Bella! You can't! Oh God—and Claire's not here, and I don't even have a syringe! Dammit!"

I stopped breathing for a moment. _How could I have forgotten _that_? Peter can heal…which means I just threw my life away for no reason. Well…damn._

"Damn," I said aloud.

He snorted, but there was no humor in his eyes. "Yeah, damn! I…I don't know what to do," he whispered.

His face was so close and his hands were so warm on my waist and back. His eyes were so sad and I just wanted to make it all better. And this was the last time I was ever going to see him…I wasn't going to waste my last moments. Usually that would be a spineless Bella thing to do.

But I didn't want to be spineless Bella anymore.

III

Matt Parkman had been everywhere, or at least that's how it seemed. But he barely knew Forks and wasn't sure quite where Peter could live—it was small yet slightly spread, at least compared to Manhattan, and he was just getting so damn frustrated.

So now he was trying Seattle, hoping Peter was on a trip out here. They were walking through the mall together, he was hand in hand with Molly, and he was holding out this stupid hope that he'd spot Peter Petrelli and catch up with him, possibly getting some answers before he revealed what their future was destined to be, and then plotted a way to stop it.

But he was growing hungrier by the second. Finally he and Molly went over to a pretty deserted pretzel stand and he ordered two with cheese. He let go of Molly's hand and reached up and over the rather tall counter to grab them—he turned and handed Molly hers.

Or, he was about to.

But she wasn't there to take it.

III

D.L. and Niki had turned to the mall, like idiots. They weren't sure what hope they had with that one, but they went for it. And here they were, tapping shoulders, asking if anyone had seen a boy with curly black hair and light skin, about yea high. But everyone would only shrug and walk away, not really bothered with the fact that their child was missing.

They were running themselves ragged, twisting and turning and looking everywhere they could, half-tempted to start looking under tables and chairs. But they had the mutual dark feeling in their chests—he was gone.

But they wouldn't let the thought form.

III

Victoria was scanning the crowded mall, the perfect place to snatch prey for her newest arrival—yes, soon the boy's tiny system would be changed and he would be ravenous. So she and half her army were out, snatching something scrumptious.

She was looking everywhere for a particularly appealing, easy to get prey, but no one seemed to be alone in this forsaken place.

But then she made it to a small pretzel stand—beneath the sickening stench of human delicacies, she smelled something sweet and fragrant. She turned her eyes onto a small girl, wandering away from a heavyset man with a curious expression.

Again, something within her snapped. All her thoughts left her body and she _knew_ this girl was valuable—would be strong and powerful enough to aid her in her quest somehow. And her age nor her availability mattered—Victoria _needed_ to get her hands on that little girl if it was the last thing she did.

Her body reacted immediately, faster than the human eye could see she sprinted by, taking the girl with her and out a nearby door.

III

With a strength I didn't know I still possessed I wrapped my arms around his neck and brought him down to me—I crushed my lips to his with as much force as I could, which admittedly wasn't much. His body came with him, though, and I shoved him away violently with the pain I felt as the sword was lodged even deeper within me.

We parted audibly and his eyes were wide, all I could see in them was surprise. I wasn't sure what to do next and an all out fear seized my heart as I remembered that Peter didn't feel the same way about me and therefore was about to reject me.

I heard a ringing in my ears and suddenly everything was gone.

III

Peter didn't know what to do—one minute her lips were on his and something like hot ice was shooting in tendrils where their skin touched. And the next she was shoving him away and crying out in pain. He merely stared out her, tears still gathered at the rim of his eyes, as she fell limp.

Peter was normally a dreamer—his head was constantly in the clouds, wondering about what could or should have been, or what may be to come. He was rather idealistic and took the bad with the good pretty well—but not this time.

Bella was dying—there was no other way for him to look at it. He couldn't place the panic he felt, the flutters he got, the worry and fear and protectiveness. They just sort of happened when he wasn't looking and now he couldn't make them go away.

And he knew he…he felt for her. That was where all those emotions and feelings came from—he thought of her as more than his niece's best friend. Or even as more of a friend to himself—something different, something he didn't want to admit.

And now he could almost see the life draining out of her as her shirt stained red, blood dribbling in a pool between his knees as he cradled her. He didn't have time to get to a syringe—and even then, Claire was nowhere to be seen. He doubted his blood would work the same way—after all, he had only absorbed the power; he never originally had it.

Bella's breathing was becoming shallower and he was just paralyzed. He couldn't do anything but watch the scene and all the horrors it entailed…Bella was about to be no more.

That was, until he felt a hand on his shoulder. It was icy and hard and it gripped him with such force that he could feel bruises forming and healing beneath it. He looked over his shoulder and gasped.

The first thing he noticed was the eyes the color of liquid gold. Then the features twisted into something familiar…it was himself. Each angle and flaw was now perfect, pale granite, and he looked like a stoic model from a magazine—but that was _himself_ either way he looked at it. And behind him was a small woman with a black veil that he couldn't see through.

"Give her to me," said the other him, and he had no choice but to obey in all his shock. Effortlessly he took her in one arm, reaching into his pocket with the other. He pulled an empty syringe from within and whispered, "Claire."

The woman with the veil walked forward. She rolled up her sleeve and Peter nearly choked—all along her arm were huge scars, like slaw marks. They were deep and an angry red color, jutting out from her skin by multiple centimeters.

His future self—for surely that's what he was, Peter deduced—took some blood from her, paying the scars no mind. He quickly pricked Bella, and repeated the process three times before pulling out the sword. It squished and gurgled and _god_ did Peter feel sick.

"Claire,"—he looked away from the scene in which his future self held Bella with such care it was unreal—"what happened to you?"

The young woman hesitated. But then she lifted her veil and Peter's nausea intensified as he saw her scar-ridden face—one eye was permanently shut, half of her nose was gone, her mouth was nonexistent. He reached out, "Claire…" but she recoiled, tear falling from her remaining eye. It slide down the labyrinth of claws and…were those _bite marks_?

Bella was suddenly in his arms again. "It's nothing," his future self said. "It won't happen." And then they were gone.

Peter didn't have much time to dwell on this, though, as suddenly Bella was waking up—he could see through the bloody hole in her shirt that she was healed and okay and alive…and he wasn't sure how long that would last. Jason Mallory couldn't have been too far but right at that moment, he didn't care. Nothing but Bella—alive and well—seemed to exist.

Her eyes fluttered open and widened as his lips were on hers yet again.

_"This time…it did."_


	17. Author's Note

_**Howdy ya'll…I'm gonna be honest, I know Authors Notes like this are terrible, and technically against the rules, but I need you to go to my page really quick. I'll explain my really long absence (longer than usual…) there. I promise, I'm not looking for sympathy or pity or anything. So if you could refrain from reviewing on this one—I mean, if you really wanna talk, by all means, but you know what I'm driving at, right? I don't want you to think I'm shooting for sympathy reviews.**_

_**Anyway, I'm gonna write that up and all shall be posted soon. I'm sorry for your continuous wait. :D**_


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